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erisinspace · 2 years

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The Cost of Owning One's Life

It takes a painful, oftentimes gruesome death of your former self and a gradual rebirth into a new creature to truly own one's self. I fondly remember this quote I read some years ago that "man cannot create himself without suffering, for he is both the sculpture and the sculptor." Though as a believer, I'd also like another version where God is constantly refining His people through the fire of trials in order to purge, cleanse, and purify them into Christlikeness. I believe it is a delicate and perfect balance of two realities—where God exercises His sovereign will upon mankind, and where man is responsible for the consequences of his own choices.

I won't make the case for the Sovereignty of God for a single reason that is very obvious—God is God, who am I to explain the mysterious ways of the Almighty?

But I would make the case for the latter, the responsibility of man to sculpt his own self into a masterpiece that he would approve, that he would respect, and—if humanly possible, without a hint of conceit—even admire and find noble.

What does it take to own one's life?

What does it mean to own one's life?

I believe those are fundamental questions that our Being demands to be answered. What is my life? Am I a slave to my past? My biological makeup? My family? My memories? My environment?

Who am I? What is my life? What am I here for?

One must consistently ask these things, and I believe all of us do, as we go on in our lives. And these are no doubt a shattering set of questions that seem to rock quite violently the bedrock of our identity. It shakes us, depresses us, disturbs us, unsettles us. It is a source of a great deal of anxiety. Unless you have perfectly figured yourself out, in that case, good for you.

Around 2018, I became engrossed with the works of Dr. Jordan Peterson, I learned about him through an exceptionally brilliant online peer who eventually became a dear friend of mine. Dr. Peterson is highly interested in the psychological study of individuals, from their biological tendencies to varying temperaments, to the study of history (especially World War II), even to the study of religion and its underlying archetypal values which human beings hold sacred since the days of old regardless of whether we deem ourselves religious or not.

Dr. Peterson believes that responsibility gives life meaning. To be able to bear one's existence despite the unavoidable tragedies and miseries of life, one has to carry his own cross, so to speak, and not just carry it but to bear one's own life with dignity and fortitude. To always speak the truth. To not lie nor partake in falsehood. He believes that speaking the truth and voluntarily taking responsibility will help us earn a sacred sense of dignity and respect in our existence—perhaps, even happiness.

I would love to share this quote from the timeless Dostoevsky from his book The Brothers Karamazov,

“Above all, do not lie to yourself. A man who lies to himself and listens to his own lie comes to a point where he does not discern any truth either in himself or anywhere around him, and thus falls into disrespect towards himself and others. Not respecting anyone, he ceases to love, and having no love, he gives himself up to passions and coarse pleasures, in order to occupy and amuse himself, and in his vices reaches complete bestiality, and it all comes from lying continually to others and to himself. A man who lies to himself is often the first to take offense. It sometimes feels very good to take offense, doesn't it? And surely he knows that no one has offended him, and that he himself has invented the offense and told lies just for the beauty of it, that he has exaggerated for the sake of effect, that he has picked on a word and made a mountain out of a pea--he knows all of that, and still he is the first to take offense, he likes feeling offended, it gives him great pleasure, and thus he reaches the point of real hostility.”

I am meaning to write this blog to organize my thoughts. To see if I have learned anything at all over the course of the years of my personal study. To see if I truly spoke the Truth and lived by the Truth. To see if I have finally shouldered my responsibility of being alive, and have owned my life as a consequence.

I have been through a lot of death and dying within me. From dying to self, dying to my own pre-held principles, dying to my own emotions, dying to my ignorance and arrogance, dying to my past, dying even to my own father and mother's approval (definitely not literally, but in a psychological sense that they are the primal authority whose approval little children yearn to have, which grown up men and women like myself no longer have to be bound upon. After all, one must walk his own path, not the path laid out for him by someone else.) But, perhaps, that which died had to die, in the hopes that a better Being must come forth. Some days I didn't know if I will survive the refining, the dying. But I kept trusting God. I trust in His Blessed Name. I only have my mustard seed of faith with me, and maybe that's all He needs. I have nothing else in me but withered roots waiting for the fire of purging. I must only surrender to His Truth. Veritas Dei Vincit. His Truth shall always conquer.

Suffering is agonizing. The cost of owning one's life is to die constantly, daily. Yet in my dying, I became more alive. More and more, my life became something real to me. I now walk in Liberty which was a strange concept to me before. In my dying, I no longer became a byproduct of my environment, of my past memories, of the things that happened to me. Those things died in the refining fire. They were chipped off in the process of sculpting. My soul is being made into a clean slate, a new sense of sight that is able to look at the world in the light of Truth, no longer stumbling blindly in the dark. There are days I do not recognize my old self, it is like a stranger looking from a blurred glass window. But always in my life, I see the gracious, merciful, ever-faithful hand of my God changing me from being an unbeliever to a believer; my own personal, difficult journey of unlearning and learning the foundational values and meaning of being a human, a created being—meeting halfway to reveal who I have now become. A new creature now walking in the newness of life.

To take ownership of one's own life, one must die first. And when he dies, he must be born again. And when he has been born again, he must surrender solely to the Truth, and the Truth shall set him free.

#Personal Blog #ideas #night thoughts #attempt to write #truth #christianity

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cacoetheswriting · 4 years

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fluff alphabet - spencer reid

A = Attractive (what do they find attractive about the other?)

It would be safe to say you’re strangerly attracted to his genius. Many people find it annoying, how he spits facts completely unwarranted, but not you. His vast knowledge of quite literally anything is what sparked your interest in the young doctor in the first place.

Spencer on the other hand is captivated by your smile. The kindness behind it; how truly genuine it always is. He especially likes when he is the reason that smile spreads across your face, from cheek to cheek, illuminating your perfect features.

B = Baby (do they want a family? why/why not?)

Definitely yes, and you know Spencer would make a great dad. He has a way with kids and it comes to him so naturally. Frankly you can’t wait for the day you get to tell him you’re expecting.

C = Cuddle (how do they cuddle?)

One arm wrapped securely around you, pulling you in as close to him as possible. Your head resting on his shoulder landing just below his chin. He smells your hair taking in the scent of your shampoo before placing a soft kiss on the top of your head.

D = Dates (what are dates with them like?)

He likes to take you out to the movies where you share popcorn and a large soda. A lot of coffee dates where he enlightens you on books he read or reread and you fill him in on the latest pop culture gossip. Nothing too adventurous but never boring.

E = Everything (“you are my ____” (e.g my life, my world…))

“You’re my home.” Spencer whispered, his hands cupping your face. You blinked a couple of times registering what he just said but before you got a chance to respond he continued. “When I’m with you, I feel so comfortable and at peace. I can truly be myself around you, no judgement or scrutiny.” He took a soft breath. “When I’m with you I feel at home and that doesn't make much sense to me but you’ve told me before that not everything has to make sense. Especially when it comes to love.”

F = Feelings (when did they know they were falling in love?)

One evening at a bar with your friends you repeated a fact to the group that Spencer had told you earlier in the week. It caught him off guard because no-one really listens to the rambles that come out of his mouth. Yet here you were, the biggest smile on your face as you reiterated: “chewing gum boosts concentration.”. You glanced at the young doctor from across the table. His eyes lit up as they locked with yours. That’s when he knew.

G = Gentle (are they gentle? If so, how?)

Spencer is one of the gentlest souls you have ever met. He has an incredibly pure and kind heart. He always puts you first and would never dare to do anything that could hurt you. Your happiness is his priority and even though he’s not the most physical person he always does everything in his power to make you see how loved you are.

H = Hand/Hold (how do they like to hold? how do they like to hold hands?)

For many reasons he isn't the biggest fan of public displays of affection. But when he does hold your hand, he traces down your fingers gently with his own before intertwining them. He’d then lift your hand to his lips and place a soft kiss on your knuckle.

I = Impression (first impression/s)

At first Spencer found you quite hard to read. He’s usually not good at social cues or interactions therefore it took him longer than the rest of the team to really get to know you.

You on the other hand were instantly mesmerised by the young doctor. The wealth of knowledge he possessed was captivating and in a way inspiring.

J = Joker (are they into pulling pranks?)

Definitely; Spencer loves a good practical joke. He also has quite a good sense of humour. Not everyone always understands his jokes but they never fail to make you giggle.

K = Kisses (how do they kiss?)

When Spencer kisses you he does so with all his might. Unlike his usual gentle demeanour, when he kisses you it’s always with immense passion. He cups your face with his hands and pulls you in as close as humanly possible.

L = Love (who says I love you first?)

You do - however completely by accident. “Did you know nutmeg can be fatally poisonous?” Spencer asked as the barista handed you a brown paper bag with a pumpkin dessert bar inside. “A little dash of nutmeg in a pumpkin pie or on your eggnog gives it extra flavour Spencer.” You noted flashing him a smile. “Too much nutmeg, however, can be toxic. Two to three teaspoons of raw nutmeg can induce hallucinations, convulsions, pain, nausea, and paranoia that can last for several days.” He stated. You couldn't help but laugh. “I love you Spencer but I’m not going to die because of a sweet indulgence.” It took you a second to register what you just said. Your free hand travelled to your mouth covering it with a soft gasp. “Shit Spencer, I didn-” “You love me?” He interrupted. All you could do was nod in response.

M = Memory (their favourite moment together)

After a particularly hard case Spencer drives you home, like he has done so many times before. He walks you to the door of your apartment and waits until you are safely inside. He places a soft kiss on your forehead and says goodnight - which is when you ask him to come inside, stay the night. Rather than going to sleep however you stay up baking what turned out to be the worst brownies either of you have ever tasted.

N = Nickel (do they spoil? do they buy the person they love everything?)

Spencer is not an overly material person. He prefers to shower you with words of affirmation and subtle compliments. Although when he does give you a gift it is always extremely thoughtful and definitely something that means a lot to the two of you.

O = Orange (what colour reminds them of their other half?)

If he had to associate a colour with you it would be yellow. Yellow - the colour of optimism. The colour of sunshine and enthusiasm. It stimulates the left side of the brain, helping with clear thinking and quick decision making.

P = Pet names (what pet names do they use?)

He shortened your name. It was unintentional when it first happened but you liked the way it sounded so it stuck. You on the other hand, if you’re not using his first name, usually call him ‘honey’ or ‘sugar’ which he used to hate. If you’re feeling giddy you’ll call him by the original nickname you came up before you were dating: ‘suspence’.

Q = Questions (what are the questions they’re always asking?)

“Are you okay?” - you are his priority therefore he likes to make sure nothing is ever wrong. “Do you need anything?” “How are you feeling?”

R = Rainy Day (what do they like to do on a rainy day?)

When the weather outside is far from ideal and the two of you are not out working a case, Spencer likes to curl up on the couch with you. He’ll put on an old back and white movie as you provide the drinks.

S = Sad (how do they cheer themselves/each other up)

If he’s feeling sad you find yourself reaching for a random book on his shelf and reading the first few chapters aloud. His head rests in your lap, eyes closed, as he listens to the sweet sound of your voice.

If you’re feeling down, Spencer will draw you a bath. He’ll light a couple of candles and dot them around the bathroom. He’ll play relaxing music through the speaker of his phone as the two of you enjoy the warm water together.

T = Talking (what do they love to talk about?)

The short answer, everything. You never run out of topics to discuss and the conversation flow is always pleasantly smooth.

U = Unencumbered (what helps them relax?)

Quite simply you. No-one knows Spencer the way you do and even though the two of you haven't been together for very long you know exactly what to say or do to calm him down.

V = Vaunt (what do they like to show off? What are they proud of?)

Spencer is modest which is one of the things you admire about him. The one thing he truly shows off is his knowledge of pretty much everything - even if he does it unintentionally.

W = Wedding (when, how, where do they propose?)

“Almost fifty percent of all marriages in the United States end in divorce or separation.” Spencer said turning off the documentary you just finished watching. “Researchers estimate that forty-one percent of all first marriages end in divorce.” He continued. “Well, lets hope when we get married we’ll be in the lucky fifty-nine percent that lasts.” You teased, a small smile circling your lips.

X = Xylophone (what’s their song?)

Let’s Groove by Earth, Wind & Fire. The song was queued by Penelope at one of Rossi’s famous get togethers - before you and Spencer were dating. She swayed and twirled, soon joined by Morgan, as the rest of the group watched and laughed. You glanced at the young doctor and before he got a chance to protest you dragged him into the middle of the room to dance.

Y = You’re the ___ to my ___ (e.g the cookies to my milk, the macaroni to my cheese)

“You’re the Holmes to my Watson.” He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “Why am I not Watson?” “Because you’re not that kind of doctor.” You nudged Spencer playfully. He couldn't help but laugh under his breath. “That is a terrible analogy.” “Terrible or not, it’s true.”

Z = Zebra (if they wanted a pet, what pet would they get?)

He wouldn't want a pet for now. The job is too demanding, he’s away for long periods of time and there'd be no-one to take care of it. Perhaps in the future, when you’re married and have kids. Perhaps.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fic #fluff alphabet

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utterlyhopeful-fics · 3 years

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Midnight Magic

A/N: Wrote a smutty part 2 to accompany you lovely folks! 🥰🥰

MASTERLIST

Henry Cavill x Reader

Also, if I keep tagging you and you’re not interested or want to be tagged; please let know!

Word Count: 1855k

Warnings: MUCH PROMISED FLUFF, dirty talk, implied smut, foreplay, kissing, language, teasing

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Y/N wasn’t someone to demand attention but tonight was a different story entirely. Whether it be the holiday magic in the air or the sheer happiness exuding from her beaming smile, they’d never know for sure. She glazed into the fireplace awaiting the arrival of her midnight kiss to show up. The embers flickered uncontrollably creating a spellbinding illusion of comfort. The cerulean blue hue of her dress was majestically magnificent, custom designed to perfection leaving little to the imagination. Paired with a sexy high slit revealed the majority of her right leg; just enough access.

This New Year’s Eve Henry had the peculiar notion to get dressed up as if they were enjoying the evening out. Y/N almost died of happiness then and there seeing the childish reflection in her husband’s hypnotic orbs. 2020 was one helluva year and though it brought them closer than ever as a couple, Y/N wasn’t blind to the hardships occurring throughout the world.

His loins stirred excitedly as lust glazed over his features growing semi-hard. The only barrier holding them from going at it like teenagers. He licked his lips in anticipation eager to have his wife all to himself. No lavish parties or parades of people to entertain this year, just the lot of them, alone and horny. He continued admiring her from afar pouring two flutes of champagne for the pair.

“You look positively scrumptious this evening, Mrs. Cavill.”

Henry silently crept from behind sneaking up unsuspectingly slow. Goosebumps riddled her gorgeous skin rippling in masses. His breath ticked the tiny, delicate hair adorning her neck shooting a pleasurable surge to her limbs. Both endlessly love drunk on one another. His sensational touch alone kicked every sense into overdrive, heightened every emotion he emitted. Y/N reached back entangling her fingers with his newly deemed ‘quarantine curls’ she’d loved to tug on. Small bites traced down her neck leaving small marks in his wake of destruction.

“May I add how delectable you are in a tuxedo, Hen? My god, my poor ovaries must be working overtime.”

A salacious smirk broke out on his lips eyeing her lustfully.

“You haven’t the finest clue what I want to do to you right now, my love.”

Her hips grinded back on their on accord knocking the air from his lungs. All his remaining blood rushed to the tip of his cock as his belly stirred in playful chaos. They swayed back and forth to the melody playing in the background both reflecting on their last year together.

Henry lined himself up with the shell of her ear wrapping his bulky arm firmly around her waist drawing her as close as possible.

“I’m truly astounded this is our 12th year celebrating as a couple.”

Y/N smiled thinking back when they first met. The year was 2008, Henry was a newly promoted regular to a Showtime series called The Tudors. Y/N was a brilliant writer, the brains behind the complex operation. Henry considered her the beauty and brains; Y/N hated when he talked down about himself saying she’d never once doubted the man who became a wonderful husband and even better daddy.

One unparticular day he’d spotted her struggling to balance a pretty hefty pile of scripts and tumbled right into him. Luckily, his super-size and strength kicked in just in time catching the eye of the attractive stranger. In that moment, Henry knew there was something about this woman he craved to figure out. He was just the lucky bastard on the reciprocating end.

“And thank god your parents volunteered to take the kiddos for the evening. Some private adult time is just what the doctor ordered. We owe them BIG time.”

Y/N winked leading him to decipher the meaning behind her blanket statements. She stepped from his grasp breaking his hold on her. He whined at the loss causing Y/N to eye him curiously.

Oh, you little tease.

Henry’s frisky nature broke through lighting the atmosphere around them. Due to the ongoing pandemic and what not, Henry and Y/N found themselves in wintry London at their main hub of a home. Henry’s roots were deep-rooted and his plea so passionate as she agreed to move across the world with him. Their lives halted for the better allowing the family to spend more time than usual as a unit. Though initially hectic and overwhelming, they were secretly thankful for these little moments with their four children. It was a time they so dearly valued at their imaginative ages.

“Oh, I bet my pops could sense the sexual tension oozing off you, darling. You smell mouthwatering.”

“Hush! Besides it is completely natural to pursue a sexual relationship with my husband outside of our children. Gotta keep you coming back for more…”

“Oh sweets, you have no earthly idea how bad I want to fuck you every day of my existence. You are absolutely divine and somehow all mine.”

“I can’t take all the credit. Nobody’s ever made me cum the way you managed to figure out. You play me like a damn instrument.”

“With pleasure.”

“Ugh, you’re insatiable.”

“Oh, come on. Your sex drive is just as insane as mine. Admit it!”

Y/N bit the inside of her lip collecting her thoughts. Henry pried and teased her ribs forcing her to his whims.

“Fine, fine, you win! I’m a ravenous feign when it comes to you. You’d think having kids would cool my jets but then I see these gorgeous faces I birthed and it’s like I reset. Poof, just like that.”

“Well you’re a phenomenal Mum and quite the MILF too.”

Henry inhaled her perfumed scent taking a long sip of bubbly; anything to keep him from combusting.

“Let’s toast, love. We must.”

“My my, how time flies when you’re having fun.”

Her manicured fingers reached for the chilled glass looking up at Henry and his three-month-old beard. She rose her glass slightly higher in preparation for his speech. Her eyes gleamed with pride as she admired her husband.

“Thank you for loving me, Henry. Seriously, you changed my life in so many profound ways.”

The sap in him was beginning to show as his eyes watered with unshed tears; “My love, it is I who should be thanking for you the unending shower of love and affection. You are the beautiful mother of our four wonderous kids who are the absolute lights of my life because of you. You’re a woman worthy of many praises than my silly ramblings. Cheers to you and for another adventure of a year!”

She swatted his chest immediately shutting him up; “Don’t say that! I am just as equally lucky to have found someone who gets me for …me. It’s a wonderful feeling to have you by my side even if I did have to kiss a few frogs.”

“No doubt I the best possible selection.”

Y/N played along jesting back; “I wouldn’t go that far, maybe the easiest?”

Gob smacked Henry’s wit was rapid fire; “If memory serves, you were there too. And just as ravenous.”

“I was about to get nailed by an insanely hot British man. Can you blame me?”

“One look from you and I was a bloody puddle. I had to recite rugby players to keep from losing my shit.”

No matter life’s challenges the past years of their lives, their resolution to stay equals and lovers was stronger than ever. A sinful glow overcame Y/N as she stared directly up at him; “Cheers to you fucking me stupid then?”

“As you wish.”

She refused to glance away maintaining his smoldering gaze; her Y/C eyes screamed sex. His pupils dilated just as his heart speed up voraciously. Both subconsciously tilted their heads oppositely neither daring to move first, unwilling to yield. Y/N challenged his masculinity testing him. Many words could be used to describe Y/N but priss wasn’t one of them.

“Oi, you are a true keeper.”

Y/N checked the matching wrist watch completing her outfit; “T-minus 15 seconds until 2021 is here.”

Still unbreaking of her gaze, Henry stayed silent taking in the beauty of his wife. He could stare at her for the rest of his god given days and die a spectacularly happy man.

10,9,8

“Oh Hen, another marvelous journey with you. Can’t wait to see what 2021 has in store for us.”

7,6

She stared down at his inviting pout unable to look away nor did she truly want to.

“Maybe thinking about another baby?”

Her eyes bulged from her skull as shock illuminated from her pores.

“You’re joshing me?”

His lack of response was more than confirmation enough.

5,4

“There’s something so ridiculously sexy about you being pregnant. I always knew I wanted kids but with you, oh with you I want to have as many as humanly possible. Our very own football team.”

Confusion stamped her features at his terminology. Sometimes Henry forgot they were from different countries.

“Football as in soccer. You know the game with the checkered ba—”

Y/N cut him off; “Jeez baby, save your mansplaining. I’ve been on this side of the pond long enough to understand your oh so clever references.”

3,2

The pros and cons bounced around in her head, doubt never far behind but the mischievous joy coming off him was tantalizing; “Let’s do it.”

2,1

Cheers rang ecstatically from the television as fireworks commanded their attention but they only had eyes for one another. Henry closed the gap kissing her feverishly. He was forever seared into her brain ruined for all other men. Lost in the moment, Y/N barely had time to set her glass down untrusting of her own balance anymore. Henry followed shortly behind. Now with her newfound freedom, Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck locking him in place. His questioning tone was almost cause for concern before his façade shattered.

“Really? I do so enjoy seeing you round with my babe. So, fucking irresistible.”

Henry’s jacket was long removed strewn over the couch. That left him standing only in his tight button up and trousers. Y/N merely leaned back his direction bringing his attention towards the zipper aligning her spine. Henry chuckled undoing her dress too easily watching the zipper flair apart. He couldn’t resist admiring the flex of her muscles and how striking she was. Tugging the material over the curvy hips, Y/N noticed Henry was far too overdressed.

“Take off your clothes, now.”

“You bossin me round, babe?”

His muscular tush ignited in minimal pain as her hand connected with his ass whipping rather harshly. A small red welt appeared instantly. Henry stood shocked as Y/N’s smug smile decorated her face.

“You really shouldn’t push me. I don’t like my authority questioned.”

Henry’s mood shifted at her use of roleplay knowing he was in for a well and good night. Henry stripped removing his boxer briefs last. Y/N strutted towards her bedside dresser pulling out a pair of metal handcuffs. Dangling them in front of him, she grinned bashfully; “You’re going to sit your ass on that bed and I’m going to tie you up now. Got it?”

~~~~~~~~~

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#henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #henry x reader #henry x you #henry x y/n #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x y/n #my writing #midnight magic #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill oneshot #henry cavill fluff #henry cavill fic #fanfic #fanfiction #henry cavill fanfic

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iron-mum · 3 years

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I wish you would write a fic where Tony and kid Peter are being adorable father and son as retribution for the angst you’ve made me suffer through in the past hah! (JK I love you and your angst! 💛)

Well, well, well. What do we have here, eh? A request for adorable? I'm not sure, I'm very good at that 😌

Here's SIMTony who would stop at nothing to help his unwell son, Peter get better. Even if it meant using Extremis.

P.S. ILY3000 💕

In the final throes of the graveyard shift at the hospital floor, the elevator pinged for its frequent lone visitor. The front desk staff, whilst tense and sitting up suddenly straighter, knew not to actually engage. No ID was needed for their boss, one of them barely suppressing a gulp as his determined strides headed for the private room that had been deliberately placed near to the room equipped for every possible kind of emergency. Once inside, he carefully shut the door silently and took a seat at the bedside.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Sharp blue eyes shifted from the persistent buzzing of the most technologically advanced medical equipment anyone, anywhere could offer before looking back down to something far more invaluable and precious. Tony’s entire world. His purpose in life. The little boy on the bed lay motionless, breathing slowly and evenly, nose occasionally scrunching up at the discomfort of the oxygen mask upon him. He should have been cocooned in a hug from his father but instead his son, Peter, was littered with wires attaching him to the very best modern medicine had to offer.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Pale, soft skin with the daintiest of freckles stood out against the dark curls spread across the far too big pillow. The small fingers of his left hand had loosely closed around the calloused thumb of his father, letting him know that whilst he had been rendered weak from illness, he was still aware of his comforting presence. Tony’s index finger gently glided across the small knuckles, willing himself to see a tiny curve of the lips on his son’s face.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

This had been the Avengers fault. Peter’s current critical condition. The young boy had been on a school trip when a battle had broken out and the wannabe heroes managed to cause more destruction than lives saved. A chemical explosion had landed most of the class in hospital and many of them had ended up becoming very unwell. Unfortunately for Peter, he already suffered many ailments so even under the wing of Stark’s finest medical personnel, the struggle had taken a toll. The genius shook his head as thoughts of revenge started to sprout from the many seeds that had been planted since the catastrophic incident. He shelved the many ideas he had that would lead to the demise of the reckless group once his kid was better.

It had been hours when the sound of a nurse's footsteps acted as the catalyst that would remove Tony from the room so he could head back to his lab. As he reluctantly moved his hand away, there was no reaction. Not even a twitch from the slender child. Bending down, he tentatively stroked a small amount of the exposed skin that was available on the boy’s face before planting a light kiss on his forehead. By the time the nurse was opening the door to the room to complete the routine checks, any sign of a visitor would be long gone.

The moment Tony was back in his workshop, he strode towards his desk. Music started to reverberate from the ceiling, the sound greatly appreciated compared to the low hum and incessant beeping from the emotionless devices that were currently keeping his son alive.

Tony didn’t believe in a higher power other than himself. So in no way, shape or form was he ever going to accept that he couldn’t save Peter from the incurable illness now ravaging his frail body. Feeling powerless was simply not an option.

Rolling up the sleeve to his top, the genius opened a drawer and pulled out a device meant for extracting blood as painlessly as possible. Not that pain meant much to him these days. No pain would ever compete with a parent having to watch their child deteriorate every single second of every single day.

Satisfied with the draw, Tony placed it into a diagnostic machine of his own making. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the glass of his workshop, eyeing it like he was in the most intense staring contest of his life. Jaw clenching, his arm shot out allowing liquid metal to glide across his skin before firing a repulsor at the glass and shattering it. There was an element of irony to everyone loving his face except himself in the minimal but intrusive “what if” moments that surrounded his current situation. With a crack of his neck, his arm remained outstretched so the Endo-Sym armour could return to it’s housing tank.

“Boss, the results are back,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. informed as the music lessened in volume. “No adverse reactions detected still. The chemical composition indicates that the Extremis is unchanged in it’s integration with you on a genetic level and continues to remain stable.”

“And the sample from Peter?” Tony asked, confident that he knew what the answer would be.

“Also remaining stable.”

“Alert the staff intending to see Peter following tonight's shift that their presence will not be needed,” the genius demanded as he mentally reiterated the next steps of his plan in his head. Lips curled into devilishly handsome grin at his victory, eyes crinkling at the sides. The smile only softened when his eyes drifted to a framed picture Peter had drawn of the both of them. He’d done it.

“Certainly, boss,” the AI had responded without any acknowledgement. Tony was too busy in thought. Not only was the Extremis flowing through his own veins, leaving him feeling at perfect health. But soon, it would be doing the same for Peter too. Pain free, peak performance and at complete and optimal health.

“Have there been any sightings of the Avengers in the last hour? I feel a splash of revenge is in order for this special occasion?” The holo-screens in front of him started to flicker as social media sites were searched and hashtags refreshed repeatedly. Hulk had been trending within the hour and Hawkeye in the last eleven minutes.

"Well, how about that?" he grinned gleefully. "I really am being spoiled for choice."

Whilst the genius had been certain F.R.I.D.A.Y. had relayed the message to the morning staff, Tony still found himself exhaling sharply at the sight of someone sat by Peter’s side reading his file. The thin bag of Extremis in his hand was shifted into his back pocket as quickly as humanly possible. The good feeling from beating the shit out of one of the Avengers, plus the buzz of providing Peter with a cure that no meagre doctor had been able to, shifted into a tension as tried to work out who it was.

Their face was narrow with sharp features and glasz eyes remarkably penetrating when they met his perusing stare. His black hair had been combed back neatly, the sides of his temples a distinct light grey. The well fitted suit looked designer even for Tony’s impeccable standards.

“Your services are no longer required,” he affirmed with a dismissive flourish of the hands before the man could even introduce himself.

“I’m sorry?” the other man replied without hesitation, closing the file and rising from the chair. Tony’s chair. If he’d been expecting any pleasantries or introductions, he was thoroughly mistaken. Tony was already locked onto Peter, the gentle rise of his chest a welcoming sight as always. He refused to allow his attention to be divided, ignoring the piercing stare boring into him now. “I have an oath to this patient. He critically needs help from the best in all fields. He needs my help.”

The genius turned at that, an eyebrow raised as he looked the doctor up and down. He certainly held himself strongly for someone who had that much audacity in addressing the owner of everything within his current vicinity.

“Are you new around here… Doctor Strange?” He asked disingenuously, eyes narrowing as he scrutinised the name badge. The letters ‘VISITOR - Dr Stephen Strange’ jotted on the bottom, likely the reason he hadn’t got his AI’s memo. The receptionist who let him in would be fired whether it was her fault or not.

“Unlike everyone else in this building, no, I don’t work for you” the doctor shot back tersely. “However, you were so insistent on my consultation that, somehow, I found my diary completely cleared of all surgeries that were booked in.”

“Well, you can now stick them back in your diary. We’re done here.”

“I know this is difficult,” the doctor started, tone suddenly softer as if he were hoping a change of tact would get through. “You brought me in for my expertise, so use them.”

“I’m the most intelligent, capable person on the planet. I don’t need you. I don’t need anyone.”

“Your arrogance surpasses all the rumours and expectations I had of you,” Strange snapped back incredulously. Apparently nothing was going to get through. “Your child is-”

“You know, it would be a real shame if you were to lose your medical licence, wouldn't it, doctor?” Tony sneered dangerously low. This ungrateful little shit was going to get it for not only wasting his time and energy, but also his son’s. An insignificant speck like the rest of the world.

“Are you threatening me?” the doctor replied doing his best to keep his tone cool and unflinching when the other man removed all personal space between them. The lack of intimidation he was feeling only pissed Tony off more.

“Let’s not test my resolve, doctor.” Despite feeling completely wrong about leaving considering Peter’s condition, Dr Stephen Strange tucked the file he’d been reading under his arm and left the room in just a few strides. Tony had spotted the hand diving for a phone as the door shut behind him and clenched his fists in disdain.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., be a darling and ensure Doctor Douchebag doesn’t make it back home,” Tony demanded followed by a nonchalant sniff.

“Yes, boss. His phone has also unexpectedly lost all signal so will not be usable anytime soon.”

Satisfied with the course of action his AI had taken, Tony locked the door to his son’s room for good measure. He eyed the current equipment before making his move. One of the drips currently providing Peter with much needed medicine was switched to make way for a sample of the Extremis that Tony had meticulously created and tested on himself. He peered at his son, swallowing thickly that this would all be worth it.

Bag secured, the first few drops started instantly, the older man watching as they flowed along the thin tubes before entering the cannula imposed on Peter’s hand. The skin began to glow orange, the lava looking trail gliding all the way up the arm’s before entering the chest. Daring a glance at the monitors, Tony noted an instant improvement in the readouts. A smile spread across his face as sheet-white, sickly skin started to immediately brighten.

Peter’s big, brown doe eyes suddenly shot open as he took a huge gulp of air, eyes landing on his father who was remarkably in focus for the first time in his life without the aid of glasses. Tony removed the oxygen mask so he could take his son’s face in fully for the first time in well over a month.

“Dad?” the young boy croaked, clearly a little disoriented from the abrupt wake up.

“Hey, buddy,” Tony whispered, voice cracking with emotion as he closed the distance between them.

Peter lunged at his father, his small arms wrapping tightly around the genius’ neck and face burying into his chest. It had been far too long since either had been able to enjoy the tender, heart-bursting feeling of overwhelming, unconditional love from one another.

“I love you, kiddo.” Tony gushed as one of his hand’s lovingly cupped the back of Peter's head holding him as close as possible. The other enveloped around his back, his thumb slowly stroking up and down. When the older man's hand started to trail through Peter's hair, the boy somehow managed to burrow even closer. Tony soothingly lifted curls between his fingers and then let them ping back as new life continued to circle through his son’s body.

“I love you too, dad,” Peter whispered, a strain evident in his voice that Tony hadn’t been expecting. When he leant back, he saw the likely cause. Now unnecessary wires were tugging at his child’s skin.

“Let’s get these off you, bud. You don’t need them anymore,” he promised softly as he carefully went to work at removing the monitoring equipment clips and stickers. Peter’s curious eyes followed every step of the way, surprisingly not wincing even when some of the tougher stickers were peeled away. Although he was too young to even begin comprehending what had happened, he knew from vague memories he’d been hurt and that he’d slept a lot. Often he had been unsure if he was dreaming or awake when he’d hear his father read him stories, express his love and let him know how brave he was being. A slight tug on his hand drew him from his recollection as he looked down.

"I’m scared," Peter timidly admitted as he eyed up the last piece of medical equipment attached to him. The cannula in his hand.

“Here’s what we're gonna do, bud. We’re going to put on our brave faces and before you know it, it’ll be all done and over with. Can you show me your bravest, fiercest face?” Tony gently challenged, as part of his upper lip curled and he playfully growled.

The child’s dinky nose scrunched up and his lips pushed out into the biggest pout he could form. He shook his head a little and hummed in a way that likely felt fierce to him but could only be described as adorable to his dad.

"Wowzer. That was super mean, you nearly scared me!” Tony gasped dramatically, as he gestured for the boy to look down and see that the only thing on the top of his hand was a small cotton wool ball and a light pressure from his dad. Using his free hand to fish into his pocket, Tony revealed a green Paw Patrol sticker with Peter’s favourite character, Rocky, on it.

It had been a distant memory since the young boy had handed it to him, having spotted the numerous nicks and cuts that littered his hard working hands after a long day in the workshop. Extremis meant Peter wouldn’t even need it, but the placebo effect would make it worth it.

“Am I all better, daddy?” Peter asked as Tony eyed him up once more. The overwhelmed father cupped his kid’s face and planted another kiss on his forehead, relief washing over him that he was now free from the concatenation of medical instrumentation.

“You most certainly are. And that means we get to skedaddle out of here.”

Before his son could anticipate his next move, his father had scooped him up into his arms and they were making their way not only out of the room, but off of the floor for good.

They’d had a chance to change into matching casual wear and feasted on a huge breakfast before snuggling up on the sofa. Peter had selected an Octonauts movie to watch as he tucked into his father’s side and enjoyed the sound of his steady heartbeat.

It would be a couple of hours when Tony’s phone pinged with a notification he knew was F.R.I.D.A.Y. when she was being discreet. His son huffed at the movement as he shuffled to get the phone out of his pocket, muttering an apology to his kid before opening the message.

[Unfortunate accident on the Hawk’s Nest, Route 97. Vehicle crossed the barrier and rolled multiple times down the cliff’s edge before landing in the Delaware River. Initial scan from one of the Iron Sight Bot #364 shows one survivor.]

Tony’s smirk widened into a full blown smile. Peter’s heart-of-gold eyes suddenly on him, looking up from his position. It was likely a silent protest at the lack of head strokes he was suddenly receiving so the genius replied swiftly.

[Call off any emergency services and get him med-evaced here.]

“You know what I think we need. Celebratory cheeseburgers for lunch,” he announced as Peter let out a squee of joy.

#writer prompt game #thank you for sending this one in!#ill be working on the next over the weekend! 🐸

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wrienne · 3 years

Text

My Cheating, Amnesic Fiancé

Chapter 8: Wrath

It was your parents.

“Sweetie? We’re sorry we haven’t been able to call you back until now - Jungkook’s parents have been in an uproar ever since noon, trying to find a cheap ticket back to Seoul. We didn’t make you worried, right?”

Your father’s soft, low, humming voice comforted your ear. You had admittedly been slightly concerned when they hadn’t answered even at lunchtime. You had left a voicemail that you had something important to tell them, but not had the time to consider it any longer due to school and battle planning.

“Did you know their boy was in an accident yesterday night?”

Your mother’s sharp voice pierced through the line, making you grimace. She was a lovely woman, strong, determined and the female you admired the most in the whole world, but her voice could seriously cut diamonds.

“Yes,” you said, holding the phone slightly away from your ear as you lowered the volume. “I was with him at AMC and he’s--”

“Good Lord,” your mother exclaimed, interrupting you. You could already see her shocked expression and her clutching her cross necklace. “Was it so bad he had to go to the hospital? What happened?”

“Well, he--”

“I thought he was supposed to be performing with his band yesterday.” your father added.

You sighed. Whenever you spoke with your parents, they were like this. Stuck by the heads, knowing the other so well they could complement as well as end each others’ sentences. They were even equally skilled at interrupting you.

“Hush, darling,” your mother said. “She’s trying to explain. As you were, (Y/N),” she prompted you.

“As I was just about to say before both of you interrupted me,” you began, stepping aside to let an old woman past, “he somehow miraculously survived being hit by a car and only broke his arm. However--”

“There, I told you,” your mother said to presumably your father. “That boy has more vigor than a cat with ninety-nine lives and more luck than is humanly possible. He must have an angel guarding him.”

“Stop dad,” you said before he could voice his input. “Jungkook is alright physically. It’s just that--”

“Did he scratch that handsome face of his?” your mother asked. “Or did he get any other unsightly marring on his body?”

Her tone made it sound like you had told her the Louvre had been set ablaze. She loved expensive art and was particularly fond of old European artistry. The burning of the Louvre would have broken her.

“No, mom,” you said wearily. “But he’s gotten amnesia.”

“What is that?” your father asked after both of them had paused for a beat.

“It means he cannot remember the most recent years of his life.”

“So...?”

“He doesn’t know anything about his company or his members. He is kind of skittish also, and has a hard time trusting people, even the doctors.”

“But he’s quite fine? You’ve met and spoken with him?”

You nodded, even though you knew they couldn’t see you. “Yes, he still knows and trusts me.”

“What about his career?” your mother asked.

“That’s the trickiest part,” you told them, feeling strangely relieved to have someone to share your concerns with. Even if these someones were your parents. “There was a specialist at the hospital who spoke with his manager, who in turn told me. There is a kind of unconventional way to get his memories back, but there’s no guarantee it’ll work. I am going to try and make him remember the past five or so years through...” You hesitated, not really certain what you should call the sloppily written list you had tucked into your back pocket. “...various techniques,” you decided finally.

“I see,” your father said. “I don’t understand why they’re in such a rush back home then.”

“Well, he did get hit by a car,” your mother said pointedly.

“Very well. Now, (Y/N), what was it you just had to tell us?”

You stiffened. It was time for you to tell them you had broken the engagement. You opened your mouth to speak, but found your throat constricted. You swallowed hard, then tried again. To your parents' credit, they didn’t try to push you. Perhaps they had heard the tension in your mere gulp.

“Jungkook…” you began slowly. “He has a girlfriend.”

Your voice broke. Your chest ached. You hated it, but the image of Jungkook and Park Yi-Jae resurfaced in your mind for what felt like the hundredth time. Even though it felt like your heart was threatening to break out of your body, you couldn’t lie and pretend everything was alright. You wouldn’t intercept their love.

Silence. Deafening silence.

“Are you certain?” your mother suddenly asked.

Surprisingly, your father didn’t step in to add something to the conversation.

“I saw them yesterday, before the accident,” you answered. “They looked very happy together.”

“Is it someone you know? Do you know her name?”

“Does he remember her?”

“Park Yi-Jae,” you managed, even as you frowned at the third question. “No,” you told your mother.

“That Park Yi-Jae?” Your father almost raised his voice. He never raised his voice. “The girl always prancing around on TV?”

“Shush, you hypocrite. You always watch her shows."

“I do not!”

“So that’s why they’re in such a hurry back home,” your mother muttered, ignoring your father. “They’re probably going to try and do some damage control and get you back with Jungkook. I told you I didn’t hear it wrong.”

“Wait, you knew?” you wondered incredulously. You felt your fingers tighten around your phone. “Still you wanted me to tell you?”

“We didn’t know what to believe until we had heard it from you, sweetie,” your father said in an attempt to calm you down. “Your mother heard it only faintly. She’s grown so old, we can no longer rely on her magical ears solely.”

Your mother did have eerily good hearing. Not necessarily when she and you argued over some petty things or whenever you told her you needed to bring food for an outdoor trek or something as a child, though that could have been because she stubbornly refused to listen or was too busy working. But she could hear gossip from the other side of a fully sat and vibrantly busy restaurant and hear the first few drops of water before a rainfall.

“You need to get back together with that boy, (Y/N).”

“No,” you said automatically, woken out of your brief reverie.

“Yes you do and you will. It is absolutely imperative.”

“He loves her,” you said stiffly. “Even though he can’t remember, I know he does. The way they were, just, it was--”

“It doesn’t matter, (Y/N). You and Jungkook have to marry.”

“Perhaps,” you said sharply, getting ever angrier. “But not to one another, we don’t.”

“Don’t be childish, of course you two will marry each other. You’re perfect for him and he’s perfect for you. There’s no question you will make a beautiful couple.”

“We don’t want to,” you said coolly. “I don’t want to marry him.”

“Darling, perhaps--” your father began.

“No, don’t you try,” your mother snapped at your father. “(Y/N), this marriage was decided the year the two of you were born. You will not undo it just because Jungkook hurt your feelings by sleeping with another woman.”

“No!” you shouted suddenly. Your eyes stung and your voice sounded wrong, harsh, and the bleak interior of the hallway made for awful acoustics. “It’s nothing like that, don’t you get it? Don’t answer it, by the way, I have homework and other stuff to do, so I can’t talk anymore.”

“We will talk about this when we get back, (Y/F/N).”

Without exchanging goodbyes, you ended the call abruptly. Still, you heard your mother’s voice, as if on repeat inside your skull. The words coiled around you and cut into your skin, like cold metal wire, and you seriously considered punching one of the mailboxes. Deciding that it would cause ten times more harm to you than you could ever hope to inflict on it, you leaned your forehead against the cool, concrete wall and tried your best not to scream in fury, frustration or whatever else the enormous swirl of emotions stewing about in your stomach could be called.

You heard the double glass doors open behind you and two or three pairs of feet hurry inside, probably eager to get in from the cold. You didn’t consider the vague familiarity of their voices as they immediately began whispering loudly. You didn’t even notice someone approaching you until they touched your shoulder lightly.

“Excuse me?” asked a light male voice. “Is everything alright?”

You spun about as you wiped your eyes. The guy recoiled sharply, his eyes widening first in surprise then in something else. He was shorter than the other two guys standing by the elevator with grocery bags in each of their hands, both at a safe running distance toward the entrance doors should you have shown yourself to be some weirdo. All three were dressed casually, like typical guys about your age, and with their faces and hair covered, you almost didn’t recognize them.

But they recognized you.

“(Y/F/N)!”

It was V, or perhaps more accurately: Kim Taehyung. You recognized him for his low voice now and because he was Se-Eun’s favorite member after Jungkook, something she had reprimanded you very heavily about during lunch when you had guessed her “list” completely wrong.

“What is she doing here?” The guy who had approached you on his own looked from his friends to you, obviously confused. You were fairly sure he was Park Jimin.

“Don’t ask me, ask her,” mumbled the third one. He hadn’t taken off his mouth mask so you couldn’t see anything except his eyes. You couldn’t tell who he was, but he was shorter than Taehyung yet taller than Jimin.

Taehyung caught you off guard by approaching you with solid determination, passing Jimin, who had backed a few additional steps, without even a glance. He stopped almost directly in front of you, his eyes hard, his eyebrows knitted tightly together.

“What did you do to Jungkook?” he demanded.

“I--” Your voice broke, and you cleared your throat. “I did nothing to him.”

“Don’t lie to me.” Taehyung strained to lift the hand he held the drooping grocery bag with and pointed a surprisingly long, elegant finger at you. He didn’t touch you, merely hovered it in front of your chest, yet you could feel the tension in the room suddenly skyrocket. “You told him something or did something that made him... angry like that. It’s your fault he can’t remember any one of us and might never be able to perform again. Don’t you get it? It’s your fault!”

It was as if his words breached the dam of guilt you had felt growing larger ever since you got the first call from Kim Sejin. Now, you weren’t about to cry in front of people you barely knew, at least because of the absurdity in the whole situation. Your second way of dealing with emotions seemed much better however, since, unlike the mailboxes, Taehyung’s jaw or nose probably could break without you breaking, too.

“Damn it, Taehyung!”

The guy you hadn’t been able to identify dropped his grocery bags and stormed toward you. He stepped in between the two of you as he firmly pushed Taehyung away, then tore off his mouth mask. Though, from this angle, you could still not see much else than the back of his head and his shoulders.

“It’s nobody’s fault!” he barked. “It was an accident. Jungkook was drunk and wandered a bit off the pavement, while the driver was tired and perhaps shouldn’t have driven. This isn’t really anyone’s fault, least of all (Y/N), who wasn’t even there!”

“Hoseok-hyung is right,” said Jimin quietly. “We can’t just put the blame on something or someone because it’s easy. It’s not right.”

Hoseok. Jung Hoseok. J-Hope. Now, you knew who Taehyung’s nose or jaw savior was.

Taehyung didn’t even seem like he had heard what the other two guys had said. He glared at you, ostensibly furious, and you suddenly wondered what would have happened if Hoseok wouldn’t have stepped in. You doubted an idol would have the folly to harm a civilian, but one never knew.

Then finally, Taehyung broke away from your gaze and went surly toward the elevator. There, he leaned against the wall beside the buttons and checked his phone after placing the grocery bags on the floor.

Hoseok turned around and, noticing how close you two stood together, quickly took a step back. He gave you a friendly smile.

“Sejin-manager told me you slept at the hospital with him,” he said carefully, like he was worried you would snap. “I presume he recognizes you?”

You nodded. You didn’t trust your voice just yet.

“I’m glad to hear that,” said Hoseok, genuine relief filling his eyes and smile. “How is he?”

“He’s annoying,” you couldn't help but say, and was glad to find your tone steady. “He won’t eat, wear the hospital gowns or obey the professionals. I was practically forced to stay there over the night.”

Hoseok chuckled almost hesitantly, as if he didn’t know whether you were kidding or not. “Ah, well, he’s always been a proud kid.”

“Too proud,” you agreed.

“What are you doing here?” asked Jimin. He crouched by the grocery bags Hoseok had dropped and carefully put back the items that had spilled out.

“I came here to pick up some of Jungkook’s clothes.” You held up the largest duffel bag you had found at home, which, if not for the brand name plastered all over it, would have looked like a body bag. You couldn’t wrap your head around why people found stuff like that fashionable. But then, perhaps only morbid people had the means to spend thousands on something as ugly as that bag. Your mother had bought it years ago. “I was just about to call one of you and ask which floor you live on.”

“Sejin gave you our numbers, huh?” Hoseok curled a finger around his chin. “I’m not sure about how I feel with our manager giving our numbers to an unknown girl.”

“I did consider auctioning them out,” you admitted. “Not for the money, but merely to see which type of people believed me and how much they would be willing to spend.”

He frowned, again a bit suspicious about the nature of your words, before he laughed. “Not exactly what I would have done if I were in your shoes, but that’s interesting to hear. Jungkook never told us about you, so I had no idea you had humor like this. Actually… have you eaten dinner yet?”

“No,” you replied before you realized what you had said.

“Great. Eat with us.”

#MCAF #wrienne #ao3 #bts fanfiction #bts x reader #bts

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imanativeofswlondondahling · 3 years

Text

Being A Star (4)- Peter Parker x Stark!femReader

Count: 2071

Warnings: Language as Steve would say

Author’s Note: Here’s the next chapter! Let me know what you think or if you want to be added to the tag for future chapters!

Becoming A Stark || Chapter One Being A Stark|| Masterlist

Life finally feels normal again. At least as much as it can for missing five years in the middle of your life, having a new sister, and living in a new house. But your dad is home which is the biggest thing. Dr. Cho is talking about having to send him to a specialist to deal with the after effects on his arm, but for now she’s let him come home with the sling holding the dead weight of his arm. The marks freak Morgan out so Tony has been wearing a lot of flannels over his arm so she doesn’t have to see it. You’re not supposed to know, but you overheard your parents talking about how Dr. Cho thinks most of your dad’s arm will probably need to be cut off. She hadn’t done it in hopes of saving it, but her messages about your dad’s case with the specialist said there is little hope that the arm can be saved. Especially since it’s causing your dad pain, which you didn’t know. You try to imagine your dad without his arm, but it just doesn’t seem right.

A knock on your door pulls you from your thoughts. “Shouldn’t you be asleep kiddo? You’ve got the second first day of ninth grade tomorrow?”

“In which I will be the only one starting the year since everyone else started last week.” You say with a roll of your eyes as Tony walks over to sit on the edge of your bed.

“Even so, you’re not one to stay up late on a school night unless you have homework and seeing as I know you already finished it…” He trails off. “Wanna talk about it?” You slide towards the left side of your bed to make room and Tony moves to sit next to you. His good arm wraps around your shoulder and you lean into the smell of him, cinnamon from his cologne and mint from his aftershave. The only scent missing was the smell of him being in the lab, but until he was cleared to work on things like his cars and other science projects, he was restricted from going into the garage.

“I, uh, heard you and Mom talking the other night.” You say softly. You didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but you were going back to your room after using the bathroom and had heard them from the top of the stairs.

“Heard us? Talking about?” Tony asks, not following what you’re talking about.

“Your arm. How they might cut it off.”

“Ah.”

“How you’re in pain.” You mutter the words.

“I wasn’t keeping that from you, if you’re up late feeling bad about overhearing it.” You look up at him. “Your mom and I were going to talk to you about it after meeting with the specialist. We didn’t want you to be worrying if you didn’t need to be.”

“I’m not up because I felt bad.” Your bottom lip slips between your teeth as you pull at some of the skin there. “I don’t like that you’re in pain.”

“I feel the same way when you hurt kiddo. But that’s what this appointment is about. They think the stones did something to the tissue and nerves. They think it’s basically corrosive. So by taking the arm away, it would hopefully stop the pain.” Your eyebrows fall together as you think about this.

“But how would that affect everything else?”

“Well, I will have to use a prosthetic. And I’ll have to relearn how to do some stuff. But if it gets rid of the pain it will be worth it. Maybe Bucky will teach me all about having a detachable arm.”

“That guy who was bad but now isn’t, that’s a friend of Steve’s?” You ask, having heard the name but never having met the guy.

“That’s the one. He was brainwashed for a little bit into being a bad guy. But he’s all better now. I wouldn’t risk myself being around him if he wasn’t. And he did help us fight Thanos.” He smiles at you. “I think that makes him a good guy.”

“Fuck Thanos.” You mutter.

“Summed up my feelings entirely.” Tony says as his hand rubs your shoulder slightly.

“How do you just jump back into life after being gone for five years?” You ask the other question that has been simmering in your mind for the past few days. “Like my life just stopped? How do I get that back?”

“You seem to be doing a good job at getting it back so far. Hanging out with Mom and Morgan and your favorite old man.” He teases.

“Dad, I’m serious.” You lean into him as you let the words leave your lips. “The past couple weeks have… they felt like they are a part of my new life. But by going back to school, I’m having to be old me all over again? How do I just slip back into that?”

“New life?”

“My old life didn’t include a little sister or waiting for my dad to come home from being injured. It was a whole different thing. I’m in a new house, I haven’t had to do anything that seems like things I would have done before I just poofed.” You didn’t want to admit it, but you had been avoiding Peter partially for that reason. Peter was pre Blip. Morgan was post Blip. How do you make them go together?

“What things are you nervous about having to deal with?”

“I…. I’m scared it will all go away again.” You admit. Every day when you wake up, you feel like crying that you’re still there.

“Being scared is a normal reaction. We all get scared sometimes.”

“You’re Iron Man. You’re saying you get scared? You literally save the world.”

“I lost you. I lost half the universe. I wake up at night and think that you’re still gone. I’m scared I’ll wake up and this will all be a dream. There’s stuff from before the Blip that still causes me to have panic attacks. I get scared easily kiddo. I’m far from perfect at dealing with things.”

“And how do you deal with all of it?”

“I lean on Pepper. I hug you and Morgan as close as humanly possible. I tried therapy once, but should find a different doctor. I tinker. I focus on the things I can control.”

“So I should just keep going even if I’m scared?” Tony nods slowly.

“Is this fear why I haven’t seen a certain Spider-boy around?” You bite the inside of your cheek and don’t answer. “I may not like the idea of you dating people for selfish reasons, but I know he makes you happy. So maybe lean on him instead of pushing him away? Just a suggestion.”

“I…” You trail off, not knowing if you should voice the other thought going through your mind.

“You…?”

“Have you ever thought about how the world would look without you in it?”

“Sure, in a dark moment. Why do you ask?” Tony’s concerned but wants to see where you’re going with this.

“I left, and you guys just moved on. So what’s the point of slipping back into what I did pre Blip if everyone was fine without me?” You ask, not looking at your dad. You find you can’t meet his eyes after saying it.

“We continued living. But we didn’t move on.” Tony wishes he had two working arms so he could pull you into a tight hug and not let go.

“You had a whole other kid while I was gone. How is that not moving on?”

“Morgan was on her way before you Blipped.” You look up at your dad with all the confusion you’re feeling painted across your features. “If the Blip had happened seven weeks later, you would have Blipped knowing that you had a sibling on the way. The last thing we wanted to do after losing you, was try to replace you. And Morgan could never replace you.” He pulls you in closer with his good arm. “I came back from being lost in space with Nebula, thinking I was going to have to tell you I lost your boyfriend. Then I took my first step off the ship and my eyes were searching for you and Pep- hoping I didn’t lose my family. But the moment I saw Pepper’s eyes, I knew it. She didn’t even have to say it. And when I knew you were gone, my whole world fell apart. It felt like my heart had been ripped out. I was sure my lungs were being crushed. I couldn’t breathe. I had a panic attack in front of the remaining Avengers because we lost, but more importantly I lost you, my kid. It took a week before I could even talk to anyone besides Pep. Nearly a month before I could manage to talk about anything Avenger related. It hurt too much. I broke the one promise I swore I wouldn’t. I swore I would keep you safe and I hadn’t done that. I was across the galaxy as you faded into dust. So I promise you Y/N, we never moved on. We just did what we could to make losing you not hurt so much. We were far from fine without you.”

“I didn’t know.” You whisper, not knowing how much pain your dad had gone through. “I’m sor-”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence. You have nothing to be sorry for. If anyone should apologize, it should be me for not stopping the Blip from happening.”

“That’s not your fault though. You may be an Avenger, but the world doesn’t rest on your shoulders.” You pause before saying. “If I’m not allowed to apologize, then neither are you.”

“You’re making demands now?”

“Mmmhmm. You perfected time travel to bring me back. And you brought my boyfriend back, willingly nonetheless. So I say there’s nothing to apologize for. No apologizing.”

“Ok, no apologizing.” Tony leans against your head. Tony decides to bring up a more positive subject. “Morgan loves that you tell her actual bedtime stories.”

“Actual bedtime stories? What have you been telling her?”

“Once upon a time there was a Morguna who went to bed, the end.”

“That’s the worst story I’ve ever heard. No wonder she likes my stories better.” You shrug. “They’re not that special. Just stories I would have made up when I was her age.”

“Vivid imagination?” You nod.

“Still have one. It’s why I love reading. Imagining far off places and new things to see. It’s amazing.” You lean into your dad’s shoulder as you explain.

“Ever thought about writing your own?”

“Story?”

“Book.”

“I’ve… contemplated it before. But never actually given it a try. What if I have nothing to say?”

“You’ll never know if you don’t try.”

“Wow, it’s cuddle time and I wasn’t invited?” Pepper stands barefoot in your doorway.

“There’s still room.” You pat the bed on the other side of you. Pepper smiles and comes to sit down next to you.

“What are we contemplating instead of sleeping?”

“Dad’s trying to convince me I should try to write a book.”

“You could write a book that is solely Morgan’s bedtime stories and I know you would have at least one reader.” Pepper agrees.

“That’s just made up… shit.” You shrug off your parents’ suggestions. “It’s not a real story.”

“It’s a real story to Morgan. The person who decides the story is worth it is the person who wants to read it. But if you want to do something completely different, that’s ok too. You have plenty of time to figure out what to do in life.” Pepper says. “But, it is getting late and you do have to get up early to drive into the city.”

“You were the ones that chose to move out of NYC proper. So really it’s your fault.” You joke.

“True, but either way, you need to get some sleep so you don’t fall asleep in class.” Tony kisses your cheek. Pepper stands up, but then leans over to give you one more hug and a kiss. “Get some sleep kiddo. Tomorrow is going to be fine.”

“Whatever you say Dad.” Tony pulls your quilt around you and tucks it in tight. “Love you.”

“Love you too sweetheart.”

“Love you kiddo.”

...A Stark Tag list: @persephonehemingway @iamaunicorn4704 @furiouspockettoad @daughter-of-stark @eternalharry @huntective-kyeo @riiis-stuff @sunnyoongles @cosmicqueenieb @sovereignparker @bbarnestan @teenwishes08 @iamthescarlettwitch @skyfallstilinski @cutie1365 @a-mnd @youarethereasonimsmiling @thefemalestorywriter @krazykendraisnotinsane @cathy8taffy @letssee2468 @babyreads @riyanna @theatregeek @bubblebunbun @curls-freckles-books

Permanent tag list: @wormonastringonastick

strike wont let me tag

#peter parker #peter parker x stark!reader #peter parker fanfic #peter parker x reader #peter parker fan fic #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fan fiction #tony stark #tony stark daughter #tony stark x daughter!reader #tony stark can't be dead if you just don't let yourself believe it #tony stark is a good dad #pepper potts #pepper potts is the worlds best mom #morgan stark #peter parker imagine #imanativeofswlondondahling #being a stark #becoming a stark

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smileyjaeminies · 4 years

Text

A chance meeting

Synopsis: When your huge crush and famous hitter Lee Jeno walks inside your uncle’s store, will it become the chance you needed to get closer?

Word Count: 2,1 k

Genre: Hogwarts au!, fluff

Warnings: none

Member: Jeno

A/N: Ayeeee it’s October! I’m not too good with horror stuff, so I thought I’d just write something a little magical and fun! I hope you enjoy!

You released a long sigh, stretching your hands over your head like a cat to relieve some of the tension on your shoulders. You pushed your glasses further up your nose, grabbing your quill on your hand and getting back to work. Your hand flew across the paper and you barely had the mind to spell the words correctly. You knew you were just writing down information at this point, but you didn’t have it in you to care. History of Magic was dull, the professor was literally ancient and this assignment was stupid.

It was summer break and since July was usually a quiet month, your uncle had trusted you with his store. His trip could wait no longer, July being the perfect month to hunt down the Greek Chimera that was plaguing his dreams. So off he went and though you were anxious, you weren’t afraid. He would come back to you.

In the heart of Diagon Alley, Olivanter’s wandmakers store had stayed within your family for centuries. Business flowed as usual, and when asked, you were instructed to say that your uncle was on vacation in Greece (which was halfway true anyways). However, you couldn’t pretend the job was a hustle to you. Wands, cores, wandmaking, they were all in your blood. The chance to get to know a world that was still away from you, intrigued you and you handled yourself well. The customers were happy and you were too, and so the summer passed.

Between your upcoming EDEMs and the work you did at the store, your summer was packed. And as September 1st inched closer and closer, your anticipation to get back to Hogwarts only grew. But at the same time, the pile of assignments remained on top of your desk at home, demanding your attention.

And so, you formed a plan. You would start with the more difficult, which sadly meant some of the most dull, assignments and once you had them out your way, you would continue with the more fun and interesting ones.

Which brought you here, writing down possibly the worst assignment you had ever written and trying to finish it as quick as humanly possible. At that moment, the store’s bell rung, signifying you had a customer. The sound startled you, making you jump out of your seat.

"Coming!" You called to the customer.

You hurried to the end of your sentence, pressing the period a little too harshly on the parchment. You wiped your hands at your apron, hoping the ink hadn't stained your hands.

As you moved to the front, you felt the tone of the room change. So the "work hard" potion you had made the other day had worked. That would prove useful in the year to come.

In the front of the store, you saw a mop of black hair, much like the ink that had after all found its way to your fingertips. He had his back turned to you, so you weren't able to recognize him. His hands were crossed in front of him, his gaze looking ahead. You realized then he hadn't noticed you come at the front.

"How can I help you?" You spoke up, offering a smile.

When he turned around, you first instinct was to gasp. But, you contained yourself, biting down at your lip and forcing yourself to calm down. In front of you stood the Lee Jeno, one half of Slytherin's hitter extraordinaire duo, next to Na Jaemin. Both came from old wizarding families, both were strikingly handsome and yet only one of them was standing in front of you.

You couldn't help but wonder where Jaemin was, the boys barely leaving the other's sides while at school. If you were being honest, you would hardly say you ever saw one without the other. And while Jaemin was loud, boisterous and fun, Jeno was reserved, quiet and studious. Among your friends your small crush on the hitter was no secret, but you had barely exchanged five whole words with the boy and you were pretty sure he didn’t really know of your existence.

So what was he doing here??

Jeno looked at you like a lost puppy, his mouth forming a thin line. You shot him a questioning look, which seemed to bring him back to reality.

"Oh I, um, I'd like a new wand, please" he asked.

"Of course. We need to do some inventory first if that's alright." You told him.

Jeno only nodded in place of an answer, his gaze fixed on his shoes. You brought out the big book from under the counter, its weight making you groan. If you had been careful, you would have seen a small smile crack on Jeno’s face. You turned the pages, finding the last one and grabbing a quill and a new bottle of ink. You started writing his name neatly under your uncle's handwriting when Jeno said,

"I'm Lee Jeno"

You couldn't help the blush creeping up to your cheeks when you said,

"I know who you are"

If Jeno was shocked, you couldn’t tell. He simply raised his eyebrows at you, but you just shrugged him off and continued writing down the date.

"So. What happened to your old wand?" you asked.

Jeno's eyes widened, the question a surprise to him as his gaze fell to his feet once more. He mumbled something under his breath and you cocked your head to the side in confusion.

"Sorry, I didn't catch that" you said.

Jeno seemed to be looking anywhere but you. He was now looking at a clock that was sitting on a wall next to you, his back almost completely turned to you.

"My... cat she... She thought it was one of her toys and she... broke... it" Jeno said with a sigh.

A smile was finding its way on your face as you were writing down the information. You tried to act professional, but the mere thought of Jeno fighting with his cat for his precious wand was too hilarious.

He started laughing first, which helped the first giggle to erupt from your chest.

"Look, I know it’s ridiculous, but she can be so mean sometimes... I don’t know how she does it!" Jeno said, running a hand through his hair.

You chuckled, nodding knowingly.

"My owl bites my ear just for the fun taste of blood, so I think I get what you mean" you tried to joke.

Jeno's smile was an easy one, but there was something about the way he was looking at you that made you uneasy.

"I'd like to know the details of your last wand please" you said.

"Uhm I think it was 8 inches, elm with a unicorn hair core. Pretty flexible." he answered.

"Nice, and when did you buy it?" You asked again.

"First year in Hogwarts. So, a couple of years ago" he said.

You wrote down the year quickly, ready to ask the next question.

“You bought it from here?” you asked, turning your quill around to show the store.

Jeno nodded, and you ticked the next box, before proceeding to the next question.

"Was it hard for you to find a wand the first time around?" You asked.

"No. It took a couple of tries but I wouldn't say it was hard" he said.

You nodded at his words, rubbing your hands together in preparation. Your mind was running with possibilities, wands, cores, lengths and everything in between.

"Okay so, I'm not an expert, I'm just filling in for my uncle but I'm going to go around and find some choices so we can see what sticks, is that alright?" You asked.

Jeno gave a nod, sitting himself in one of the chairs next to the window. You wondered the rows upon rows of wands, trying to find a couple propositions for Jeno. You grabbed a few, going back front to show them to him.

"Let's start with this one. These are all a bit longer since you've gotten older, I hope you don’t mind" you said.

Jeno shook his head, taking the wand in his hands.

"Its unicorn hair again, but holly this time" you told him.

Jeno moved the wand around a little, then turned to you with a small shake of his head. You offered him another wand, which he took in his hands.

"Dragon heartstring. 10 inches, flexible. Ash. How does it feel?" You asked.

"I don’t think this is the one" he said simply.

You went through a couple more wands, Jeno swirling them around but with no result. As you were handing him a Phoenix core elm wand, an idea popped in your mind. You put the wand back on the counter, raising one finger in Jeno’s direction to signal him to wait.

"Wait. I have an idea" you said.

Shuffling in the shelves on top of shelves of wands, you looked for a specific one you had in mind. Your uncle had just made it a few weeks before his departure, placing it near the back as you often did for the newer wands.

"Aha!" You called, carrying the wand back to Jeno.

"I just remembered about this one. I wanted you to try it." You said, offering the wand.

Jeno took the wand in his hands and immediately, golden sparks flew from the tip.

"I knew it!" You said, smiling wide.

"So what's this one?" Jeno asked.

"Its unicorn hair again. 10 inches but ash and a little inflexible. But it works! So yay!" You said.

"It does work. It feels... heavy in my hands though" he said, moving the wand around in his hand.

"It’s going to take a little getting used to. It's a new wand after all and you have to meet each other first!" You reassured him.

"You're right, I guess.... I just realized I never asked your name?" He asked.

"It's Y/N" you said, your smile faltering a little. So he didn’t remember you.

"Why do I feel like I've seen you before?" He asked, more himself than you.

"I... I'm a Gryffindor? We had potions together last year" you tried to spark his memory.

And Herbology the year before that. And Charms the year before that. You thought. You were disappointed, there was no hiding that…

"Oh?" Jeno said, letting out a startled sound. "I... I'm sorry about that, it's hard for me to remember faces... It's hard to speak to people too, although people keep coming up to me. I guess I'm too antisocial to be famous"

A nervous laugh came from Jeno and you nodded at his words. It did bother you that he didn’t remember you at all, but then again, the entire castle was fighting to be his friend.

At that moment, you decided you liked this Jeno best. Quiet but open, timid but kind.

"That's alright. You know who I am now" you said, giving him a small smile.

Jeno smiled back, his eyes getting smaller and you felt your heart fluttering at the gesture. You told him the fee for his new wand and he placed the coins nearly on top of the counter that was separating you.

"I guess I'll see you around, Y/N" he said, taking a step towards the door.

There was something about the way he said it. Could it be the way he was looking directly at your eyes? Could it be the way he turned around so suddenly? Could it be the way you caught his fists tightening at his sides? Or was it the way he was biting on the inside of his cheek?

It didn’t matter. Your heart was flying and you knew, oh you knew it well. You were screwed.

"I guess you will" you replied.

"I... Are you doing something tomorrow afternoon?" He asked, his eyes avoiding yours.

"Nothing at all." You replied a little too hastily, making your teeth sink in your bottom lip in embarrassment.

Jeno caught the action, but didn’t comment. He only asked,

"Would it be okay for me to buy you an ice cream at Fortescue’s?"

"That sounds lovely" you agreed.

Jeno smiled, his face changing along with the action.

"All right then. I'll meet you here around 5?" He asked.

"I'll be waiting." You said, returning the smile.

Jeno turned to leave, but you stopped him by calling his name. He turned to you, his eyes finding yours easily.

"I... Just don’t let your cat break your wand again, okay?" You joked.

Jeno chuckled, shaking his head a little at your words.

"Maybe if it means coming here, I’ll let her have her way with it." He said.

You had to fight back a gasp. You desperately tried to look for a witty answer, but it was in vain. He was already out of the door and you were once again alone.

But you would see him again.

"Until tomorrow, Lee Jeno." You said to yourself, going back in the small back room and to your almost forgotten History of Magic assignment.

#kafenetwork #jeno #jeno fluff #nct dream #nct dream fluff #dream fluff #nct #nct fluff #nct jeno #nct u #nct 2020 #lee jeno #hogwarts au #nct hogwarts au #nct dream hogwarts au

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lambvein · 4 years

Text

Cheerful Host-part 9 (Reupload)

The past months have been hell on earth. A nightmare come true. These dumb fucking bimbos have been training me to reply to their every command whether it be to finger my pussy or fondle my nipples or bounce up and down to make my massive knockers bounce in public…but I wont give in to their orders!…unfortunately I have a bad feeling my decision to disobey will prove fruitless and harmful to me and my assets.

“Where are you taking me? Why are we going back to the mall, havent you embaressed me enough in that victoria’s secret earlier? What else could you sluts possibly want?” I spoke to the hive of bimbos in an annoyed tone.

Juggs responded “well a perfect bimbo needs a perfect makeover isnt that right ladies? And what better place to start than getting those already fat lips pumped up even more hehe!”.

“What?!?! No, please I already have ridiculously fake, plastic jugs and booty please I cant handle any more implants!” I begged the bimbos.

“Thats exactly the point silly billy! We, like already pumped up your tits and ass so now we need to top off this bimbo cake with some big, fat, fake dick sucking lips!” ariana spoke in a mocking voice.

I began to tear up at the thought of how goofy I would look with massive fake lips and how hard it would be to speak or communicate

“Please ladies, dont do this to me I will do anything…anything at all!”.

“Awe mega mountains thats cute, if we want something from you we will make you do it…speaking of which…play with us right now! Hands on your tits and pussy, girl!” Juggs demanded.

“WHAT!?!? Were in the middle of a fucking mall are you crazy?!?!” I whispered into my cleavage as to not seem crazy infront of the crowd of mall-goers bustling the crowded building.

“EXACTLY!” The bimbos all shouted at once.

I then began to feel the all too familiar feeling of my pussy and nipples swelling up…it felt…AMAZING.

“wont you play with us now, mountains…come on you know you want too” nicki spoke in a seducing, childish tone.

“Hurry up bitch, were not letting you go anywhere until you obey us!” Jugs shouted in the back of my mind.

I gave in to the feelings and dove my hands into my tight top and shorts and began to play with myself. My attempts to stifle my moans proved to be no help as every passing pedestrian either looked at me disgusted, whistled at me or copped a feel themselves.

“Hmmmm these horny guys grabbing a feel gives me an idea, mountains present your huge jugs to the next chick that walks by and beg her to feel you up hahahaha!” Juggs suggested, the other 59 bimbos controlling me all laughed at my situation and decided to pump up the sensitivity in my delicate areas.

The slightest brush from my tight clothes was enough to bring up an accidental squeal in ecstasy. Without hesitation I hefted my titties up to an approaching goth high schooler who had just exited the mall’s hot topic.

“Please, please play with my tits! I need release so bad!” I shouted at the young lady as my knees were shaking and my arms were swiftly giving out from attempting to carry my enormous knockers.

“What the fuck!?!? No way you dumb bimbo!” The goth hissed at me before storming off, dissapearing into the dense crowd of shoppers.

“Girls, please make this end. My shorts are soaking wet and im so tired from hefting my boobs around in everyones faces amd playing with myself for the past hour” I begged the bimbos.

Juggs replied “Okay fine mountains…we will save this for later when your makeover is done!”.

The bimbos all squealed at my suffering as they swiftly brought me back to my feet out of my puddle of pleasure and strutted me over to the mall’s lip injection clinic. The sluts strapped me down to a leather chair in the back of the store as a curvy nurse holding several needles appeared.

“Oh my god can we please talk abou…” my speech was cut off by the nurse pumping the needles into my face all at once.

The sensation of my lips filling to the brim with silicone felt terrible. It took several minutes to finish her injections and by the time she finished half of my view was obstructed by my now cartoonishly large top lip.

“Mmpppff mmppff mmpppfff!” I lost the ability to open my mouth enough to create words.

My lips have become too fat and heavy to be able to open my mouth. “Perfect! I have never done silicone injections that large before but I made a special case for you so you better enjoy it!” The nurse said to me in a cheerul tone as she grabbed a handful of my bottom lip to test its thickness.

“This is perfect! No more backtalk from miss mega mountains!” Nicki interjected.

The sluts all cackled at my inability to speak as I was lifted up off the leather seat and out of the nurse’s office.

“Next stop, a new wardrobe!” Jugs announced.

“Mmmmmppppfff!” I attempted to plead to the sluts.

“Silly mountains theres no point in rebelling. We just took away your one way of communicating with the outside world. You are all ours now” juggs said with a triumphant jiggle of my colossal titties.

“Now play with us…or else…” Nicki demanded.

I didnt hesitate and quickly stuffed my hands down my bra and worked my nipples as best as I could to satisfy the bimbos. Several people passing by either gave me a dirty look, blushed, looked away or hollered at me like some kind of dog. After several minutes and many awkward interactions we approached a lingerie shop I had never noticed in the mall before.

“Alright ladies GO WILD!” Juggs announced to her hive of sluts as I was forced to sprint into the sex shop as my big boobs hit me in the face several times.

The sluts selected several outfits: a christmas themed bikini, a sexy nun costume, a leopard print bodysuit, an obviously too small tracksuit, a latex devil outfit and a tiny pair of panties with an equally miniature bra to go with it. I was practically pushed into the change rooms by my swarm of sluts to the confusion of the clerk at the store and got a look in the mirror at my current situation. I felt like breaking down crying.

I looked like a cartoon character, I barely fit in the change room with my enormous caboose and fat melons attached to me and to top it off I now sported the biggest pair of fake lips I have ever seen, they reached past my chin and rested just below my eyes “MMMMMPPPPFFF!”.

“Like what you see, mega mountains?” Juggs taunted.

“MMMMMMPPPPPFFF!”.

“Yeah, we are all pretty sexy together arent we, I suppose you should be thanking us that there is no reverse spell to separate us…yeah…were one big bimbo together forever.” Juggs mocked as I stared in utter shock at what I had become.

“Ummm excuse me if you are done, like, pouting we have some outifts to try on” kim said in a spiteful tone.

The girls then reached for their first outfit…the santa bikini. All the outfit consisted of was a red mini bikini with a santa hat. The bimbos finished dressing me up and proceeded to put me in as many lusty poses as they could think of, it was so degrating watching my now ruined body being paraded around like this. Every single one of my private bits were on full display…my large and in charge nipples are easily distinguished from the tiny fabric of the bikini top, the bottom of the bikini served as nothing other than a string of cloth rammed up my ass and served no other use other than to split my fat pussy lips. After several minutes the bimbos decided to move on to my next outfit…a sexy nun outfit…compared to my last get up this outfit was actually quite conservative. The costume consisted of a regular nun’s cap and robe with the main draw being the large frame in which the purpose is to display as much cleavage as humanly possible and of course the sluts spared no time as they adjusted my boobs until as much titflesh was spilling out as possible. They became bored of the maid outfit rather quickly probably due to how much skin it covered. The next suit the bimbos decided to stuff me into was a leopard print bodysuit, after zipping up the suit my breath was sucked away as the suit hugged and pushed up all of my curves.

“MMMMPPPPFPFF!” I tried as best as I could to communicate to the bimbos that I couldnt breathe under all my titflesh but my begs were of to no avail as the sluts continued to pose me in any way they pleased without a hitch.

“Damn girls look at our tits! This cleavage goes on forever and ever!” Ariana spoke in a lustful tone to her fellow sluts.

My next outfit was an extremely tight tracksuit. My enormous junk in the trunk was tucked into the extra small tights resulting in a brought up squeal from the cameltoe being firmly set in whilst the tights run deeply into my own ass crack, next the track jacket was zipped all the way up resulting in my titties looking like beanbag chairs stuck in a suit.

“Ooooohh I like this outfit! And it seems like mountains is enjoying it as well. Look how much shes blushing!” Kim pointed out.

“I know what will really get mountains going” juggs said as she took over my whole body.

I felt my lips open as I was forced to speak into the mirror…wait how was she making me talk with my fat, fake lips?!?!

“Hey samantha…enjoying the ride? I sure hope you are because its going to get so much sweeter…we will never stop recruiting sluts to join our hive and you will never escape being the host of our hive. You will never be rid of your massive knockers, your big fat booty or us…so get used to it bitch because you are under new management. The bimbos management” Juggs finished her speech and returned to her respective consiousness in my jugs.

I felt like crying but my big fake lips only allowed me to hold a ridiculous duck face as I stared full view at my figure. Whilst I was distracted the sluts undressed me from the tracksuit and quickly suited me up into a hot red latex bodysuit and attachable devil horns. The slut squad stuffed my extreme assets into the bodysuit to the point of deriving severe discomfort from within the suit. “Perfect!” Jugs announced as she assessed the fruits of her labour by fondling my tight implants and injections.

“Yes, a million times yes! Lets roll girls!” Juggs announced to her fellow bimbos as I strutted out of the sex shop.

“Mmmmppppfff mmmpppff!” I tried conveying to the sluts my terrible discomfort due to the constraints of the bodysuit but my begs and moans fell on deaf ears as they kept bouncing me along like some kind of pornstar preparing for a shoot.

I looked absolutely ridiculous, I looked like jessica rabbit going to a bdsm convention.

“*ahem* we need some attention down here mountains, come on dont you know how to be a good guest?” Jugs spoke in a sharp, snarky tone.

I stuffed my hands down the front of my suit which only made my discomfort more extreme and began working my nipples to please the bimbo hive.

“Now don't you dare take your hands off your tits until we say so or you will feel the wrath of the bimbos” juggs hissed.

I continued playing with my mountains as I was forced to walk through the entire mall as if to display to everyone what I had become, this is so fucking humiliating. My face was burning red by this point which only further put my heavy makeup job front and centre. It took several minutes to exit the mall and by the time we had my pussy was ready to burst but the sluts refused to supply me release. With my new outfit pushing up my knockers and booty combined with my new fat lips I now felt even more embarressed to be seen in public. The people only see me as a bimbo now and now with my massive lips I cant even talk back…I am now a passenger to my own body at the horny hands of 60 bimbos, sluts, whores and strippers….wait why are we going back to the strip club!?!?!…

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richiefuckfacetozier · 5 years

Text

Chapter 3: Winding Me Up Inside

Story: Why Can’t This Be Love

Click to read on Archive

Art of Eddie and Richie by @whatidoisxsecret

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

___

Eddie honked profusely at the car in front of him. Everyone had decided it was idiot day on the road as one of the bridges was down from a car fire. People were cutting him off or making illegal u-turns that almost hit his car. He ended up pulling over to grab a drink at a restaurant. He wasn’t very well going to die tonight if he could calm his nerves with alcohol instead. It was unfortunate that he left his pills at home, knowing they could calm him immediately but a gin and prune juice, his healthy alcoholic beverage of choice, would have to do the trick.

About a month had gone by since ‘The Arrangement’, something Richie had started calling their pretend dating. Eddie would’ve rather called it ‘The Nightmare’ but Richie wanted a positive outlook on the situation.

Eddie eyed a grungy bar next to a pizza joint that looked perfect to grab a cheap drink. However, upon further observation, there was a rainbow flag sticking out above the bar’s entrance. He blinked at it, took a step forward, then froze. His body had seized up at the prospect of going in.

He wasn’t sure how long he stood there but a booming voice said, “You in or out?” Tossing him from a temporary mind blank.

“Huh?” Eddie focused on the bouncer standing by the entrance, who was ripped and large. He never understood having such intimidating people be the first greeting you encounter before entering a bar or club. Don’t these businesses want people to come in? “Oh...er...no no. Just searching for a place to drink.”

“Well, this is a bar.” The man eyed Eddie up and down, giving the impression of being humanly x-rayed. “Drinking is the main activity...among other things.” There was some prolonged eye contact between them that dried Eddie’s throat into a Sahara desert.

Eddie nodded shifting forward. He reached for his wallet, which had his ID, but his hand merely hovered over his slack's front pocket.

“Maybe another time?” The man suggested with a lighter tone. Eddie straightened up, nodded and walked away.

He just failed at that pretty spectacularly. What would Richie think? Probably that he was a chicken. This had been an extra hard month. With the realization, he may have stronger feelings toward guys than he had ever admitted to himself. He had stopped sleeping, barely ate, and secluded himself more.

Suddenly, the demise of his relationship with Myra was making more sense. When she used to touch him sensually, his skin crawled. He assumed that was from the years of his mother convincing him the world was a germ-infested blackhole, girls were dirty, and how he could never truly be clean. Except he rarely felt that way when Richie touched him. Or any of his friends. Sure, they had known each other for years, but he knew Myra for a long time too and it didn’t settle into a comfortableness that relationships were meant.

He tended to resist Myra’s kisses, fake not feeling good to get out of sex, and pushed her away constantly. Their break up had been devastating. At the time he believed it was because the love of his life left him. Now he knew the truth.

Eddie eventually got a drink at a bar a few blocks away. The drink refreshed and calmed him immediately. It’s funny how certain things relaxed him right away because he’d conditioned himself to feel that way. His mind began thinking about tomorrow, a chilling dread running up his neck. He scratched at the nape even though nothing truly itched.

He was seeing his friends for a pre-engagement party celebration. Just the seven of them. The thought almost made him break out into sweats. He downed his drink and ordered another. Usually, he would be extremely excited and thrilled to see the losers club, except the next step in the arrangement, was occurring. Eddie had to come out collectively to the group. A fake coming out but that fakeness was becoming authentic with every passing moment.

He wished there was someone he could talk this out with. There was Mike, but that felt wrong somehow. The one person he wanted to tell was Richie. What would he even say? There was a nightmare scenario he replayed every day that Richie would laugh in his face, which logically he would never do but Eddie’s attempts at controlling his imagination have never come to fruition.

While he was absently stirring his drink, his phone started ringing. A picture popped up on his screen of Richie lifting a screaming/laughing Eddie from behind. He took an extra second to remember the joyful memory, running a finger over the picture then answered.

He sighed into the phone, “Hey, Rich.”

“Where you at, gumdrop?” said Richie with an obvious smile in his voice.

“A bar. The traffic was crap, so I am waiting it out.”

“What’re you wearing?” He said suggestively.

Eddie frowned, huffing out, “Work clothes, why?”

Richie clicked his tongue, “Cause you are supposed to be at Beverly and Ben’s celebration extravaganza in,” quick pause where Eddie figured Richie was looking at his phone for the time, “20 minutes.”

“No, it is tomorrow.” Eddie insisted.

“No, my cutie patootie Eds, it is today.”

“No,” He said slowly. “It’s on Friday, you turd.”

A laugh came through the phone, “Today IS Friday.”

Eddie paused as horror sunk in fast and deep. “Oh shit…”

“Yeah, so see you at the restaurant!” Richie hung up, leaving Eddie to his panic.

He slapped down a $20 on the bar counter, despite the drink being less than half that and bolted out the door. He ran past the bouncer who shouted, “Don’t trip, kid!”

His car turned on with a roar then he zoomed out of the space. The traffic had significantly cleared which worked in his favor as his car swerved around dangerously. His heart pounded with adrenaline. When he pulled up in front of the restaurant, Richie was standing on the curb smoking a cigarette.

Eddie gave the valet his car keys, not even thinking about how much that would cost him at the end of the night, and hurried over to his friend.

“The prodigal son has returned!” Richie tossed the second half of his cigarette on the ground, stomping it out for good measure. As Eddie neared Richie wrapped an arm around his shoulders pulling them close together. The smell of smoke was both overwhelming and familiar. As much as Eddie despised the disgusting habit, he was so used to it that he could brush it off.

Eddie pushed on his chest to free himself a little but not enough to break contact. “I can’t believe I fucking forgot.”

“Take a minute to breathe, Eds. Where’s your head been at lately?” Richie asked in what he probably thought was a casual tone, except, Eddie knew better. His friend was really asking ‘Where have you been?' or 'Why are you isolating yourself?’.

Isolation was the only solution for hiding his emotions, which had been many and increasing each day he spent alone with his thoughts.

Instead of answering the question, Eddie shrugged and smiled lightly.

Richie reached up and pinched Eddie’s cheek with a “Cute, cute, cute!”

“Stop it, I hate that!”

He laughed, “You ready to do this?”

Eddie took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, “I can’t do this.”

“You CAN do this!” said Richie with excitement. “Just be yourself.”

“Fake coming out to my friends is the worst idea we’ve ever had. It is wrong.”

“What do you suggest then?”

Eddie nervously glanced at his feet, “I think we should just out ourselves to Bill like we planned next.”

“You think they are going to believe Bill without any pretense? No, you have to come out and it has to be tonight since it’ll be the only time we are all together before Beverly and Ben’s engagement party. If you steal her thunder in any way, she will murder. Who she’ll murder is unclear but it starts with Ed and ends with die. Hey! That was more clever than I intended.”

Eddie swallowed, “Alright, but Richie…”

He made a tracing motion toward the ground “There will be a chalk shaped Eddie on the ground with Beverly DNA everywhere. It’s going to work, Eds. I promise.”

“Don’t call me, Eds. Listen, Rich I…”

“Stop trying to come up with excuses! It’s going to be fine.”

“No, Richie! Just shut up a second!” His heart was beating out of his chest, he had to tell Richie what he had been going through or everything could be ruined. He had to give him an out if he wanted. Eddie shrugged off Richie’s arm, so they were facing each other. “I’ve been thinking that I...I…”

“Well, spit it out Eds. Thinking what?”

“I THINK I MIGHT ACTUALLY LIKE GUYS!”

Richie stood shocked and silent at first, just staring. Those ice-blue eyes hiding secrets and judgments that Eddie desperately wanted to hear aloud. Tears had caught in Eddie’s eyes which he blinked away quickly. “Well! Don’t just stand there, asshole! Say SOMETHING!” He demanded.

“I...I…” Richie sputtered face turning crimson red.

“Well, spit it out, Trashmouth.” mocked Eddie.

“I do too.” He gasped out.

It was Eddie’s turn to stare in silence. “Sorry, I think I went temporarily insane. Repeat that?”

“I like guys, too. I have since college.” Richie sighed with relief. “Maybe longer.”

“What? You have?” This revelation made Eddie take a step back. “I had no idea.”

“Not relevant information to disclose.” Shrugged Richie.

Eddie gave a confused look then lowered his eyes skeptically, “This isn’t a joke, Richie. I actually believe I am gay.”

“You're the one who shoved a rainbow cake with sprinkles on top of my bisexual pie.” Richie’s eyes twinkled.

“Wow,” A smile broke out across both their faces, pure joy at the realization that they weren’t alone. They had never been alone. “What were the chances that 2 out of the 7 of us friends would be gay.”

They stood there, in a rare silence, watching each other with a newfound comradery that didn’t seem possible after 20 years of friendship. Richie grabbed Eddie’s forearm and pulled him in for a hug, which was returned 10 fold. Tears that he forgot to keep holding in fell into the side of Richie’s neck. His emotions were on a rollercoaster with no chance of stopping. He faintly heard Richie say, “Eddie, I…”

He didn’t get to finish what he planned to say because a “Richie! Eddie! W-what’s the hold up?” Interrupted them. They quickly broke their embrace as Bill appeared beside them. He looked calm despite a bit of impatience in his eyes, then saw their faces and concern washed over him immediately.

Bill put a hand on Eddie’s shoulder, the weight very comforting. “Everything ok?” He reached in his pocket and took out a travel tissue pack. Eddie gave a watery giggle, taking one and blowing his nose.

“Yeah, Big Bill,” said Eddie. “Everything’s great.” And he found that his words were true.

After a few more breathes and checking himself in the selfie camera of his phone, Eddie felt ready to face his friends. The three men walked into the restaurant, heading to a back room that Ben reserved for the occasion.

“Congrats to the couple!” Richie shouted as he bounded over to bear hug and lift Beverly off her feet. She laughed swatting at him, “Let me go you dorkface!”

“Dorkface!” Exclaimed Richie. “Of all the sass to receive from your dude of honor.”

Eddie watched the exchange warmly. Ben patted him on the back. “Traffic?”

“Huh? Oh yeah.” Eddie said embarrassed. “Tons.”

“There was a car fire and crash on the bridge.” Came the dry, toneless voice of Stanley Uris. “Surprised it wasn’t you Eddie, with all your road rage.”

Eddie gave a pout in Stanley’s direction but walked over to his friend for a handshake and a hug. “Such a kind, warm greeting from you Stan. I miss you, too.”

“Where’ve you been lately?” He sounded unperturbed, but he wouldn’t ask if there wasn’t a genuine concern.

“Oh ya know,” Eddie trailed off with a shrug. Stanley lifted an eyebrow but didn’t push it, for now at least.

Eddie started to seat himself between Stanley and Ben when Richie grabbed his collar jerking him backward. “Scoot over, Stan the man.”

Stanley rolled his eyes, “No.”

“Why?” asked Richie.

“Because I am comfortable here.”

“You’re being a stinker, Stanley. Move to the seat next to Ben. You like Ben, don’t you?”

“Of course I…”

Richie looked right at Ben, “Too bad for you, Benny boy, it seems Stanley doesn’t like you anymore.”

“Beep- beep, Richie,” Beverly warned while drinking a glass of wine and placing a hand on Ben’s arm.

“I’m just saying it is suspect that the best man doesn’t want to sit next to the groom.”

“He’s not a groom until the wedding day.” Stanley insisted. “And I am already sitting…”

“Richie isn’t gonna let it go, Stan. Just move over one.” said Bill with strong finality. None of the losers liked to admit anymore that Bill remained the group’s leader even into adulthood. But when he made a request it was usually followed with little argument. Eddie figured it didn’t matter how independent any of them grew up to be, Bill still held a controlling rope over them. Something Stanley was known to resent.

He moved over a seat as Eddie gave an apologetic look at every one. Getting between Richie and Stanley tended to end in him being yelled at, so he rarely bothered anymore. Besides, he bickered with Richie more than anyone else so Stanley had no room to complain.

Richie glanced around the room realizing they had a missing loser. “Where’s Mike?”

“Bathroom,” Responded Beverly, still nursing her drink. “How was work, Eddie?”

“Fine, I guess.” The last thing he wanted to talk about, except his mother, was his boring job. “An econ student was hired as my intern, which makes me think I’ve finally made it.”

“Poor bastard is in for a world of ribbing by all your accounting co-workers,” said Richie, bumping Eddie’s shoulder.

Eddie laughed, “Oh, I already made a joke at him today. Why do economists exist?” He scanned around the table then opened his mouth to answer.

Mike’s voice interrupted from the door of the private room, “So accountants have someone to laugh at.”

“Mike!” whined Eddie. “You stole my punch line.”

“Sorry, Eddie.” He took his seat between Beverly and Bill.

Stanley smirked, “You practiced that joke didn’t you.”

“Shut up,” Eddie groaned. “How was your trip, Ben?”

“Not the best,” Ben sighed, he wore a deprecating grin. No matter the story, Ben always had some kind of upturned smile, it was a unique quality. Considering most people told Eddie he had sad eyes, being able to smile at all times would be an excellent trait. “I didn’t leave early enough like I usually do because it was so early in the morning. I left my water bottle in the rental car they got me, then ran from TSA to the gate, was in my seat when I realized the sweater Bev got me for my birthday was back at security.”

Beverly rubbed his back soothingly, “We can get you new ones of both those things.”

“I know, it’s just a bummer because they were special items before I lost them.” Eddie understood. Ben and he shared the same mentality about their personal items, each thing they owned held a nice memory. He knew that the water bottle was one Ben got from his job after the big promotion, he could ask for another one but it wouldn’t be the same as the moment he received the gift. The feeling of pride and achievement all through a meaningless material item.

“Well, lucky for you, Ben.” Richie pulled out something from his bag, handing it across the table to Ben. “I had these made for everyone.” Richie continued grabbing water bottles from his bag, passing them around.

“This is so nice, Rich!” said Beverly. She laughed at the label. Eddie looked down at his seeing ‘#TeamBenverly’. It was great quality, a platted maroon paint covered the bottle with the lettering in a bold white.

“I still have the keychain you gave us for my bachelor party.” said Bill.

“That’s right!” Mike chimed in. “What does it say again?”

“Big Bill’s Bitchin’ Bachelor Bash.” Stanley drawled. “Kinda clever.”

Richie grabbed Eddie’s shoulder, making Eddie almost jump in confusion. He stared at Richie, who was clutching his heart in mock shock, “A compliment? I don’t think I can handle that from you, Stanley Urine.”

“I take it back,” said Stanley, “You don’t have any cleverness. Only idiocy.”

“Hmmmm, insults,” Richie leaned in front of Eddie, still holding his shoulder as his face got closer to an unamused Stanley. “They feed my very soul.”

Eddie placed his hand over Richie’s face and pushed him backward the metal of his glasses digging into Eddie’s hand, “Your soul has a healthy appetite then.”

“Oof, your words fill me up most, Eds.”

“Eds is a dumb nickname and you know it.”

“Alright, alright!” Mike called the attention toward him. “Let’s hear from Ben and Beverly. A decade of being together and now you’re tying the knot. How does it feel?”

Ben looked to Beverly, who smiled sweetly at him. “Feels perfect,” said Ben simply, but in those two words, he expressed years worth of working toward friendship and partnership that went beyond infatuation. “I’m so happy. And even happier to have my best friends around to celebrate.”

“This wedding is really about coming together,” started Beverly, “With our friends, the family we’ve chosen, to celebrate love. I think what we have with all of you is rare and...”

Eddie thought deeply about her phrasing ‘the family we’ve chosen’. He had many issues with his mother, different than Beverly’s father problems but they both came from toxic environments. Kindred spirits in a dark and twisted way.

With all his thoughts lately, he had pushed down how his mother would react. He may never tell her, if he could help it. Her religious views left no room for tolerance on the subject.

He shoved thinking about his mother deep in a box in his brain and focused on Beverly, who was still speaking, “...so just thank you for being there for us. Anyway, let’s fucking celebrate!”

They all cheered, Eddie looking around with a smile on his face. With his ‘chosen family’ he could trust them to love him no matter what.

As the night wore on with lots of laughs, food, and stories. Ben brought up the story of when he finally got the courage to ask out Beverly, “I was waiting outside of school, sweating profusely, despite wearing 2 sweaters…”

“You always wore so many layers!” said Bill laughing.

“Well, when you are fat and subconscious, that’s how you hide it.” Ben said, voice lowering a bit in embarrassment.

“Ben Handsome now shows off his true glory and beauty.” said Richie with a wink. “Just the way I like it.”

“Beep- beep, Richie.” Blushed Ben. “As I was saying, I waited outside and she approached me like in slow motion. I thought I was going to throw up. As I opened my mouth to say something she said,” He motioned for Beverly to continue the story.

She giggled, “I said, ‘Ben, let’s go to prom together’. His face drained of color and he passed out.” The whole room erupted in laughs. “I..I was knocked to the ground!” Beverly tried to say through gleeful tears, “He fell forward into me.”

“You were a very pleasant landing.” Ben smiled in mortification.

“You planning to faint at your wedding too?” said Stanley, “As your best man, I will need to prepare.”

“No, I’m not. I promise.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” said Richie. “I will have a fainting couch ready as a precaution.”

“You’ll probably just jump in front of Beverly and take one for the team,” piped Eddie.

“Speaking of the wedding,” Stanely rounded on Eddie and Richie. A dread bubbled in Eddie’s stomach. “You two having to bring dates is the smartest rule. I should have thought of that for my wedding.”

Richie threw his napkin at Stanley’s face, “Don’t make me take YOU as my date Stan the man.”

“You could never get this, Trashmouth.”

“I can get whoever I want. Right, Eds?”

“Don’t call me that.” Eddie mumbled. “While we are on the subject, just so no one is surprised, I might bring someone who none of you would expect.” Eddie felt his knee being squeezed from under the table. It took him a moment to realize it was Richie’s hand, he was giving a warning. Most likely telling him to keep the details limited, but Eddie hoped it was a touch for encouragement.

“Please, don’t bring Myra.” said Mike making the group groan collectively.

“Now, that would be unexpected.” Richie snickered.

“Eddie, you’re not actually thinking…” said Bill seriously. “Beverly, if they get back together I blame you.”

“Me?!” Beverly opened her mouth to fight but Eddie interrupted.

“Hello! Back to me, losers. I am not bringing Myra. I am not even interested in women!” The words slipped out quick, and he wished they could be suctioned into his mouth once more.

They went quiet, as the news hit them. Mike was smiling at Eddie. He felt his bravery trickling into cowardice the longer none of them said anything.

“S-so does this mean,” began Bill. “That you-you’re g-“

“Gay? Yes, stuttering Bill.” Richie answered seeming to be frustrated by Bill’s condition for the first time in a long time. Then a chair screeched out and Beverly ran around the table, slamming herself into Eddie.

Her soft hair tickled his neck, his heart was calming down from her sudden show of affection. He placed a hand on the arm she slung over his chest. Richie’s hand hadn’t left his knee either. Everyone else’s reactions were fairly standard, awkward congratulations or they were proud of him, all expected. The surprising reaction was Stanley, perhaps because he didn’t react at all. He was silent for the rest of the evening.

As they all stood outside saying goodbyes, Stanley seemed to linger a little aways from Eddie. He waited for the rest to leave, Richie was the last to hug him and head to his car. He wandered toward Stanley hesitantly. The taller man was twisting his key in hand repetitively, tapping his foot methodically.

“So,” Eddie begun lightly, “I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah,” answered Stanley stiffly. Eddie cocked his head to the side trying to meet his friend’s eyes, then gave up turning to leave. “How do you know?” Came his voice clearly from behind.

Eddie turned around, a few paces away. “Know what, Stan?”

“That you’re into guys.”

“Because I just do?”

“How long have you known?”

“Er...that’s more complicated. I mean I’ve been sitting on it for a month but..”

“A month?” interrupted Stanley, he was getting pink in the cheeks. “You’ve known a month and are coming out. That’s not enough time to know.”

“What’re you talking about?” Eddie was trying to keep his voice calm, he could feel that tingle of rage that surges in him when he feels attacked.

“Have you ever been with a guy?”

“What does that have to do with knowing whether I am gay? I know that every time I’ve thought of girls it hasn’t been the same as with guys. Or how with Myra...”

“Ok, yeah! Myra!” He rose his voice like winning some kind of twisted victory. “You were with her for a year and you really didn’t know?”

“Stan, you’re being a jackass.”

“I am trying to understand why you kept this from us?”

“From YOU, you mean? Stan, I didn’t keep it from anyone. I was figuring out my shit, then I talked about it with Mike and…”

“You told Mike first?”

“Um...no…” He caught himself quickly. “I told Richie first then Mike.”

A hurt flashed over Stanley’s eyes that Eddie hadn’t seen in years. “You told them before me?”

“Stan...come on. I told the rest of you at the same time. It was just easier to tell them at the time.”

“I’ve known you as long as Richie has. Much longer than Mike.”

“It’s not about that!” Eddie was at a loss. This was getting nowhere. “I don’t know what to say, Stan. I’m not going to apologize.”

“There is nothing to apologize for.”

“Then why are you fighting with me like there is?”

Stanley remained silent. His arguments lost on his tongue. “I am tired. I will talk to you later.” And he walked away. Eddie stood there, stomach twisting the food inside uncomfortably, eyes watery from the sadness creeping in his head.

_________

Thanks for the patience for the new chapter! Longer one cause I apparently had a lot to get through. I am starting a second job soon, but I will keep working on the next chapter as inspiration hits. Don't forget to subscribe!

Comments/reblogs/likes "feed my very soul", post questions and thoughts!

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sahoolatkaroffcial · 3 years

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7 Reasons, Why Companies need Digital Marketing Services to Promote their Business?

There’s no denying the fact that digital marketing has emerged as the need of the hour. With billions of people being active on digital media, it has become imperative for every business, regardless of its magnitude and scale to be omnipresent on it. Long story cut short, companies that do not invest in digital marketing services will not prosper in the long run. Because a millennial customer will look for a product or service on the web, it is essential for you to have an active presence on the digital platform. This is why several marketing agencies have jumped the bandwagon of digital marketing and are paddling top-notch services to the clients. If you're reading as a business owner and want to get some valuable information about digital marketing companies, you’ve come to the right spot. In this feature, we will guide you through a few strong reasons, you need digital marketing services to promote your business:

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Although it is humanly not possible for most customers to be on the web 24/7, still you find a lot of people who are omnipresent on the digital platforms. So the best way to engage with them is to promote your product or service on the web. However, the problem with most companies is, they don’t promote their offering at the right time. So with so many customers online, there is a strong chance that most of them will already be looking for a product or service. Therefore, this is how people conduct business activities today. A modern customer expects every business to have a website from where everyone can have access to whatever they want. So if you don’t invest in hiring a digital marketing company for this work, it will be hard for you to gravitate your business towards success.

2. Being Accessible to The Clients is Important

In this digital world, every customer will look for an offering on the web. So regardless of whatever the product or service is, Google will be their first search place. This means, if you don’t have any online source, your business will never be identified by the customers. This will eventually put you at the receiving end of the damage. Investing in digital marketing services will also help you come across the perfect SEO experts, they will work on the most searched keywords by the customers. This means, as soon as your website is ranked in accordance with the right SEO strategy, your platform will stand out to the customers by the search engine. As a result, your company will be obliged to more customers.

3. Your Competitors are Always on the Web

Today, customers have access to an abundance of digital platforms on the web. In simple words, if not you, the customer will choose any other platform on the web to get the desired product or service from. Most of your competitors will already be on the web, which is why you need to register an active presence for your business as well. Not being available for the customers will eradicate your presence from the business world. Even the big fishes of the business world have invested in digital marketing servers, so they can diversify their work and come across more audiences easily. A digital marketing firm will not only magnify sales but will also identify the loopholes in the current marketing strategies being used in your firm.

4. Know Your Target Audience

Through digital marketing, you can easily come across the right prospects. With this tool in place, you get to know them and identify their demands. Through social media, you can easily come across a wider audience. As soon as you begin to pay attention to their demands, you will rest assured about coming up with the right product and service. In contrast, not having a perspective on the demands of the audience will put you at the receiving end of the damage. By interacting with the customers through digital platforms, one can easily rest assured about building strong connections with the relevant audience.

5. Better Sales

Every business owner aims to earn a lot of profit with the investment of little money. Because more than half of the global population is on digital media, having access to it could result in improved sales. In fact, most businesses are having a major moment right now because of digital media. Secondly, unless you don’t invest in a digital marketing agency, you won't be able to make the most out of your efforts. Today, digital marketing agencies are in high demand because they can easily help any business expand its horizons. Hadn't it been for digital marketing, many businesses would have never seen the light of the day. So as the sales continue to rise, profits will rise and business will expand as a result. Through Digital marketing, many companies earn a lot of profit by offering different types of Home Appliances like Inverter AC, Air Cooler, Microwave oven, bikes on installment, and many other items.

6. Digital Marketing is the Need of the Hour

Another strong reason, you need to hire a digital marketing company is because this option is the need of the hour. If your business doesn’t keep up with the modern marketing standards, it will be hard for it to keep up with the customer's demands. Right now, digital marketing is being adopted by all kinds of businesses, regardless of their size because every investor looks for maximum return on investment. With investment in the digital marketing company, many businesses have applauded massive changes in the earning factor. So now is the right time for every business to invest in digital marketing services because they can help one flourish quickly.

7. Customers Will Come to You Themselves

The traditional practice has always been to take the product or service to the customers. Now, through digital marketing services, customers will come to you themselves. In simple words, because customers are online, they look for products and services on the web. So as soon as they find your platform trustworthy, they will quickly switch to it. This is why companies are investing in digital marketing services right now. Thanks to the digital marketing firms, several small-scale businesses have been able to flourish in a short time.

#digital marketing #online business #Bikes on installments #Sahoolat Kar

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gascon-en-exil · 4 years

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Mercilessly Judging the Men of Fòdlan: The Alliance

It’s been a long time coming, over eight months in fact, but now that it may be assumed that the last of the DLC has been released and the fandom as a whole has settled comfortably into its various camps I think there’s no better time than now to answer that burning question: how raunchily, outrageously gay can the male cast of Three Houses possibly be? For those unfamiliar with this fun little series of mine, I’ve been applying my extensive knowledge and experience of gay male sex and hookup culture to the men of Fire Emblem, originally as a way of reckoning with the refusal of the games themselves to provide me with any worthwhile self-insert M/M content. I stand by that premise for FE16 - you all know how absolutely nothing appeals to me about m!Byleth or his prospects on that score - but in the years since my first outing of merciless judgment with Awakening that idea has expanded into something broader, an imaginative modern AU of sorts where all these guys are into men (if not always exclusively) and willing to put themselves out there in the lewd and semi-anonymous world of hookup apps in search of their preferred carnal delights.

A note on organization before we begin, as this material is too long to cram into one post. Excluding Byleth (as Avatars and their spawn always are for this project) there are twenty-one playable male characters in Three Houses. This makes for an even threeway division to preserve the eponymous conceit of the game, but not a particularly neat one. Aligned with the Leicester Alliance I therefore have below the male Deer, Almyran and former Goneril indentured servant Cyril, runaway Alliance noble Balthus, and Alois because his biography states that he’s the son of a merchant family. The Alliance is the nation most associated with successful mercantilism, so there.

The Empire

The Kingdom

Claude

Indecipherable from the start. The alluring shirtless selfie and goofy profile read like a fun and easy lay, but rather than sending nudes he engages in long meandering conversations that last for days or weeks before the first meeting. An expert at drawing people out while revealing almost nothing of himself in return, this takes on more literal dimensions when talk and pictures get more explicit; he’ll respond to dick and ass pics with vaguely positive emojis but deflect repeated requests to send some of his own, but he’s so disarmingly chatty that few guys get angry about this. In-person encounters are similarly frustrating in a way that’s hard to convey, as he’s eager to get his hookups naked and cumming via whatever method expedites the process with as little effort on his part. He’s left more than one satisfied but confused partner wondering some time after their meeting if he’s even really into guys at all, or if he’s playing out some weird service kink or vicarious voyeurism. Whatever the case he’s not much the dating type, not because he’s closeted or non-monogamous but because he has other priorities that don’t mesh well with long-term companionship. A shame too, when he’s become a permanent part of the masturbatory fantasies of many a man with whom he’s had even the briefest of encounters (particularly tops, who see in him a cocky bottom who desperately needs to get wrecked). That’s mostly all it is with him though: just fantasies, quick and dirty and unfulfilling because sex is apparently little more than a means for him to connect with people who may help him reach something bigger. Open-minded about his partners’ kinks, but is extremely touchy about race play; he’s aware that he has an ambiguous look about him, and does not appreciate anyone bringing that up even if the intention is completely innocent.

Favored erotic tea time subjects: your erogenous zones, your fetishes, your guilty pleasures

Favored gift: a lavish dinner, not for the expense but for the pleasure of sharing it

Lorenz

You may not like the hair, or the overwrought floral motif, or the polite but pointed way he pursues dates with the men he’s scoping out, but it’s undeniable that his reputation precedes him as someone who is known and who is worth knowing in the community. He’s not as slutty as that suggests, far from it, but he does enjoy his lunch dates and his inordinately expensive shopping dates and generally being as publicly social as it is humanly possible to be. Has an assortment of fem bottom BFFs on speed dial who are always up to the minute with him on social media, but it turns out he’s more versatile than his age and his...expressive fashion sense might imply. Would absolutely love a boyfriend, but judges all his dates in every aspect and considers least of all the size of their dick or what they know to do with it. It’s unusual for him to run across a guy who’s as well-educated and career-oriented as himself who also meets his admittedly snobbish criteria regarding class, and most of the time when he does they make better friends than marriage candidates. Cannot abide poor manners in or out of bed, and has corresponding expectations about proper condom use and prep (also PreP) and won’t hesitate to interrupt a makeout session with a lecture on not fingering him when he just ate an hour ago and he hasn’t had the chance to use an enema yet. Jock types do little for him, although he does have this one celebrity crush of that sort that he holds dear to his heart precisely because it will never, ever happen (although, he does happen to move in adjacent circles....).

Favored erotic tea time subjects: office sex, hustlers, the tea itself...not like that

Favored gift: his crush’s contact info, also measurements if he can get them

Raphael

His selfies come in two varieties, gym and food, and this perfectly sums him up as a person and a friend and sexual partner. Sociable but not particularly quick-witted, his conversations are filled with emojis and exclamation points and it’s not very long before he’s making invitations to hang out at either his favorite fitness center or one of his many favorite restaurants. Don’t expect much from the latter however, as he favors quantity over quality. Is more or less the perfect boyfriend if you like them big and dumb, and on some level he knows this because he’s clearly comfortable with who he is and the goals he’s set for himself, both in body weight and in life in general. Even nicer, he likes skinny nerds just as much as he likes guys who can hold their own (or even surpass him) during workouts, and he’ll try just about anything once. Not the most skilled at topping or giving head or anything else that demands precision in action, but he’ll always give his best effort anyway. Besides, he makes a great bottom, with enough cushion and stamina to take a really hard pounding and jerk himself to completion in just about the time it takes for him to coax his partner to orgasm. A simple man with simple tastes and an insatiable appetite for food and pleasure and good company, and if it comes to it a sweet and devoted familial sort as well. Doesn’t have much of an imagination for kinks, but the person who shows him how to combine food with sex might be on the receiving end of a marriage proposal right then and there.

Favored erotic tea time subjects: sexy workouts, feeders, power bottoms

Favored gift: food, especially if you get into watching him eat it

Ignatz

Fucking an art student is always a unique experience, and he’s determined not to disappoint. More likely to share pictures of his latest projects than nudes up front, although he welcomes receiving them himself as he’s quick to explain that he draws his influence from all areas of his life. Has a particular fascination with the kind of unintentional eroticism found in certain religious art, which is more likely to be found quietly perplexing than offensive in hookup spaces. Is shy and relatively untested when it comes to sex, and as such he’s a natural fit for tops who love to break in new twinks. Said tops may have to put up with his request to sketch them in the bed or on his sofa afterwards though, because apparently the nude models in his classes just can’t compare to the men who ten minutes prior had their dicks in him. As he gets older and acquires more familiarity with the medium he’ll start to gravitate more toward guys of a similar age and disposition as himself, who can be subjects for his art without the constant demanding to get off. (They still get off with him of course, but he has trouble convincing the less understanding that that’s not his first priority.) Sometimes too he’ll just want someone to cuddle with and tell him that he’s good at what he does and isn’t making any questionable life choices. However, with art being the uncertain career that it is he may find himself one day having to reconcile himself to a sugar daddy to spare him from a mind-numbing day job - or worse, admitting to whatever disapproving relation(s) he’s got that he screwed up his professional prospects and isn’t doing so hot in the dating scene either. Never quite loses his mawkishness in bed, but hopefully he’ll get past his public anxieties with a bit more success. Is not really into the gym bunny types, although they love him to death and he has to admit that all that toned musculature is easy to work with. Keeps the glasses on during sex, or at least until he has an accident with them.

Favored erotic tea time subjects: artistic nudes, sexy statuary, missionary (he likes to watch the top)

Favored gift: a set of professionally done nude selfies, for modeling

Alois

A loving and devoted husband and father, he’s only in the app space because a friend made a joke about them and he just had to check it out. Utterly clueless on the terminology and the rules of etiquette, such as they are, for a place where it’s considered perfectly acceptable to begin conversation with a picture of your erect cock. Needless to say he completely misunderstands the term “daddy” in this context, thinking it naturally applied to him without being aware of all the horny twinks that would be hitting him up as a result. Will eventually be prodded, laughing and blushing the whole time, into taking and sharing some mildly saucy selfies, and the boys go wild for his literal dad bod and hair in just the right places (including on his face; the handlebar variation is a few decades out of date, but that just makes him more endearing in a dorky retro way). It’s not clear initially whether he’s even attracted to men, but after a few months of chatting and swapping pics and perhaps furtively jerking off to the ones he gets he might agree to a discreet encounter or two. Well, they would be discreet if he weren’t always so loud, and if he didn’t always resist everyone’s immediate impulse to shove a dick in his mouth just to get him to shut up by coming up with yet another dumb joke. Doesn’t get much further than the idea of oral anyway, as he’s not the most sexual guy to start with and he can’t quite get past the immature giggling over ass play. Not a bad jerkoff buddy when it’s all said and done provided you can stand all the puns, nor is he all that bad to look at or cuddle with afterwards once he figures out that guys like his hugs too. One can only wonder what his wife thinks of all this.

Favored erotic tea time subjects: (bad) sex jokes, porn, glory holes

Favored gift: links to daddy porn, so he’ll finally figure it out

Cyril

Born into a rough background and forced to get by in some difficult circumstances has left him hardworking to a fault - emphasis on “fault.” His greatest act of teenage rebellion was to be aggressively not rebellious, and he still hasn’t grown out of that mentality as he’s quick to scorn his more carefree and hedonistic peers and wouldn’t even be on the apps at all were he not so privately, guiltily horny all the time. As may be expected this mentality wins him few admirers and even fewer friends, of any age, the more so because he’s inexperienced and still figuring out exactly what he wants from a sexual encounter. Will bottom but has a complex about the implications, but unfortunately most of the guys willing to hook up with him are tops and expect to get it in at least for a little while. Manages better when it comes to swapping head, having experimented with his more adventurous friends in school. His fastidiousness and unusually good eyesight lead him to subconsciously fixate on his partners’ minor bodily blemishes, and since pointing those out never goes over well he’s taking to prefer sex in the dark. He’s absolutely not looking for a daddy and is annoyed at the suggestion, just as much as he’s annoyed by guys who try to turn pillow talk into impromptu therapy sessions regarding his past. Will take a few more years and probably some time away at school to properly find his footing; there’s a no-nonsense if slightly insecure top buried under the fading twinkish exterior, and provided he learns out to mellow out a bit he could be quite popular one day.

Favored erotic tea time subjects: circle jerks, docking, race play (which he feels guilty about)

Favored gift: a cock ring, for those size woes

Balthus

He was on the wrestling team in school and acquired a notable reputation for his strength and skill in a brawl, although it was also at this time that he realized he was getting hard every time he would throw down with another guy. Deflects this with an exaggerated womanizing demeanor and a blank profile announcing only that he’s looking and saving even the headless torso shot - impressive though that shot is - for messaging. Gets handjobs and blowjobs and occasionally tops, all NSA and very discreet, but his internalized insecurities fortunately do not extend to his partners. This is probably because his preferred types are either closeted muscle bros like himself or self-confident young bottoms with no patience to take anything from him except a hard fuck and a thick load. His awkward younger days will be long past him before he learns to open up to anything more than that, and even then it’s unlikely that he’ll be very relationship-minded. Has to be educated by more experienced partners on lube and prepping a bottom, and it’ll take a lot of drinks and a lot of convincing to get him to try eating ass (he will though, eventually). Bottoming himself is out of the question except perhaps with the most dedicated of vers guys, but put him on the mat with another total top and there are good odds that someone’s going to end up penetrated before it’s over. Speaking of odds, is terrible with money and not domestic in the slightest, but he’s got a rich family that he can theoretically fall back on in a pinch. Not really boyfriend material, more like the ideal perpetually naked roommate with wandering eyes and a boundless libido.

Favored erotic tea time subjects: erotic wrestling, dirty talk, praise kink

Favored gift: a harness and matching jockstrap, he’s got a thing for gear

#Fire Emblem #FE16 #Fire Emblem Three Houses

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mogitz · 4 years

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They warn you that it’s hard, you know.

The moment you announce that you’re pregnant, there’s no shortage of horror stories - from the terrifying birth to the uncertain college years, every mother seems to have a tale to tell. These stories are often bookended with how regardless of the sleepless nights and the constant worry looming overhead, having a baby is the best thing that’s ever happened to them. I’d like to think that I was never naive about having a baby - I worked in childcare for almost a decade. I knew it wasn’t going to be easy. But no one can truly express to you just how hard it can be until you actually experience it yourself. You had all those months to prepare for it, but nothing ever really does. Because out of nowhere, your life is split between two realities: what it was like before, and what it is now. I’ve told people the strangest part about being a new mom is waiting for things to feel “normal” again, but slowly realizing that they never really do. At least, not in the way that it was before. What you have now is a “new normal,” and like all major life changes, it just takes time to get adjusted. What no one told me was that while it might be the happiest time of your life, there’s also a quiet, dull ache of grief for the life you had before. It sounds so terrible when I actually say it aloud, but it’s true. Life - as you knew it - is gone now. And you’re suddenly putting your every need on the back burner for this little person. “You barely eat anymore,” Daniel told me a few days after we’d come home from the hospital with Cece. I pondered that for a moment. I couldn’t recall my last full meal. I hadn’t even thought about it; it didn’t even cross my mind. And in the first three and a half weeks since Cecilia was born, I think I maybe showered 4 times… (I’m working on that). As the hours pass and days melt into weeks, time doesn’t really make sense anymore. As she whimpers and sucks on her fingers, I think to myself that she couldn’t possibly be hungry already. Then I realize her last bottle was 3 hours ago - it feels like it was only 15 minutes since I did this. Diaper change. Bottle. Burp. Diaper change again (because thanks, Cece). Then rocking her back to sleep. Maybe. Hopefully. Then the cycle repeats. Over. And over. And over again. And I’m mad at myself that the parts of me that seem to be struggling the most are the selfish, “human” parts. The part of me that doesn’t WANT to make another bottle. The part of me that crawls into bed with a heaviness on me as I remember that I will not sleep more than a couple of scattered, restless hours before she needs me again. The part of me that audibly sighs when she immediately dirties her fresh diaper that I just changed seconds ago. The part of me that brokenly sobs on the phone to my husband while he’s on his way home. The first time I left them alone together, I remember explaining to Daniel with the certainty of an expert that there were logical steps to take to get her to stop crying. I even wrote him a little cheat sheet: Is she hungry? Is she peed? Is she pooped? Does she have gas/need burped? Does she want her binkie? Is she swaddled? Is she too cold? is she too hot? Does she want to be held and rocked?

But then 4:30 pm rolls around - Cecilia’s Witching Hour - where my cheat sheet is rendered useless. And nothing logical helps, nothing seems to soothe or her keep her from crying. Her screaming this time of day is the kind that slices through the entire house, cutting down everything in its path. It is shrill and loud; alarm bells that demand to be heard. And I can neither hear nor focus on anything else. I can feel my anxiety rise as I try to bounce, rock, swaddle, pat her into silence. I look at that clock knowing I have another three hours until Daniel returns home, and I just need to keep it together until then. How strange that those three hours feel so long - a sharp contrast from all those other hours that seem to bleed into one another and are gone in a flash. Then 6:30 pm is here, and she has finally given up, finally let sleep overtake her (but only in my arms). I almost wish she wasn’t so still and calm, so Dan can walk into the mayhem and see that I wasn’t making it up. That today was hard. Her cries are still ringing in my ears, although not so painfully now, as we settle into the silence. Once I can think again, I look down at her precious, perfect face. I want to cry when I realize that it’s useless to try to memorize each line and curve of her because her face is changing every day. How strange that I wanted nothing more than for her to sleep only moments ago, but as she sleeps now I already miss her. She is looking more and more like a baby now, less like a newborn. I am reminded time doesn't discriminate, it passes with or without us. I am achingly aware, in this moment, that I need to cherish every second I have with her. But some days - days like today - it’s harder and harder to remember that. And that just makes me even more angry at myself. Because my home feels like a warzone. Soiled diapers are littered around, bound tightly into little balls that resemble grenades. Tiny clothes, stained with spit-up, are scattered across the room like fallen soldiers. I haven’t fully slept in days. But she’s asleep now. Finally. And I have that nagging feeling that I might have won the battle, but I’m losing the war. I’m terrified to move from this position that seemed to finally quell her discomfort and get her to drift off to sleep... but not so soundly. One wrong move and she’ll be up again, declaring war on me and everything around us - her pleading screams feeling more and more like a warcry. I’ve never felt more helpless than I do in those moments where I cannot soothe her. Sometimes I’m anxious. Sometimes I’m scared. Mostly, I’m just exhausted. And right then, I’m sick to my stomach for feeling this way. How? How could I possibly feel anything but complete bliss with this perfect little being in my arms? I think about how much I wanted her to stop crying before, meanwhile, there are mothers out there that don’t get to hold their babies in their arms. There are childless mothers out there who would give anything to bring a baby into this world and tend to her cries. There are mothers out there who would give anything just to hear their babies cry one more time. Shouldn’t I be grateful? Shouldn’t I be so damn happy that my baby is healthy and here, and WOW, she has a set of lungs.

Dan calls me on his way home, and that’s when I let myself break down. He listens patiently as I cry to him about how hard it is. I am torn between loving this little thing in my arms so much, and admittedly (guiltily, and humanly) resenting her for not letting me comfort her before. As I weep, Dan is still about an hour away from us. He’s stuck in traffic, helpless to do anything to soothe me. And I can’t help but wonder... Does he feel about me the way I feel about Cece, sometimes? He offers me advice the way I offer her a pacifier - she spits it out and so do I. I don’t need him to fix it… I just need him to understand.

And I think he does. Or at least he really tries. And in that way, I’m incredibly blessed… but then come more lingering feelings of guilt. It’s not as though I am doing this alone, as some mothers do. He’s there for me, offering me help and reprieve that I hardly accept in the moment. Because I told him that I know exactly what she needs just based on the furrow of her brow - as a mother should. But today, I am glaringly aware of my shortcomings and it makes me feel defeated. But even through the toughest nights, the fear, and the guilt, I know that this time is only temporary. This acts as a mantra when she’s inconsolable, and a lesson when I just want time to stop so I can hold her just a little longer. The contradictions you face being a mother are so vast. I could be doing the mounting laundry and tending to my to-do list as she sleeps, but I’d rather just hold her and savor every second I have with her. It won’t be like this for long - this thought both soothes me and breaks my heart.

Daniel gets home, with food, and a hug. Cece’s still asleep, splayed out across my lap, so Dan and I can just be us for a little while. We watch a movie. We laugh. These are the times it feels like what normal used to be. But there’s always that part of me that knows she will be awake again soon, and reality will settle in again. Cece sleeps well that night, only waking with hardly a fuss for a clean diaper and a fresh bottle. I get longer stretches of sleep, and wake up to her cooing and smiling. As she looks up at me, I am back in love again - somehow even more wholly than the day before. Just when I think it’s not possible to love her more than I do, I feel something shake loose within me and my heart expands - more room to let the love in. Things will never be how they used to be, and I know that I don’t want them to be. It’s harder… but it’s better. They warn you that it’s hard, you know. And they are totally right about that. But they are also right that it is completely, undeniably, beautifully worth it.

#postpartum #post partum #ppd #post partum depression #post partum anxiety #new mom #newborns #support #mental health

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yourcoolfriendwithallthecandy · 5 years

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Keep Your Eyes On Me Part 4

Aaaahhhh, I’m leaving for vacation tomorrow morning but I COULD NOT LEAVE BEFORE I GAVE YOU PART 4. I’m not cruel. because I’ll be on vaca for a week and will be with family and cant take my laptop. So in case you missed it, here’s Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 and now Part 4. WHERE THE ANGST STARTS. Enjoy. Thank you to @waiting4inspiration for hosting this 2k follower challenge, they’re amazing and their viking works have SO INSPIRED MY OWN.

Part 4

You didn’t leave your house for a couple of days after that and your life became- sex, eating, sleeping, bathing and caring for Dyre. And you were so happy to have your life so simple for a while before you remembered that you would still probably have to leave him, you hadn’t broken any cardinal rules that were grounds for expulsion yet. You doubted he’d want to leave his world behind for yours. And you weren’t sure you were willing to give up your old life for his, even as great as it was because you knew, in this time, things changed with the wind and that your future here would still be just as uncertain. But then the truth that...he didn’t really love you, started to sting. He loved Astrid, with the long blonde hair and super fair looks and the mother to “his” child. Not Zara, the time traveling, shape shifting, power wielding, super soldier, dragoner assassin. It would break both of your hearts when you would be called back and you had always answered the call. But you couldn’t resist this indulgence. You couldn’t resist him because each kiss was like a drug and you were an addict needing a constant fix.

You went with him as he made his rounds around Kettegat, because Bjorn refused to let you out of his sight, both of you grinning like idiots and sharing more than your fair share of kisses and touches and loving looks. Bjorn’s sister adored you and praised how handsome of a son you gave her brother.

And you didn’t escape Ivar the Boneless’ notice. He looked at Bjorn with barely concealed envy and looked at you with jealousy. He looked at Dyre and something stirred in him. When he looked at Dyre- he felt that that was what his son was supposed to look like and felt even more jealousy and outrage because life was never fair.

Freydis had refused to leave his house and had done nothing but demand where her baby was and he couldn’t bring himself to tell her what he had done. He was still in a crossroads between denial and pure rage that his son was born a monster in his eyes. And to see both of you so happy together as a family, a perfect one in his opinion, made him angry and insanely jealous because that’s what he was supposed to have. He was a god after all. It was owed to him.

You were at home making dinner together, barely able to complete the task because you couldn’t keep your hands off or mouths off of each other because you’d be leaving in only three days which meant you’d have three more days of wedded bliss before there was a knock on the door.

“Yes?” Bjorn asked as he opened the door to see Ivar’s men.

“You are summoned to the king’s hall for dinner. You and your family.” They informed him and Bjorn had the worst sinking feeling as did you but he had to accept.

“Of course, allow us to get ready. A few moments please.” Bjorn requested before he shut the door.

“Why do I feel like this is a trap?” Bjorn whispered as you both got dressed in some of your finer clothes while you got Dyre dressed in his nice clothes too.

“Because it is, we were supposed to be gone by now, we’ve stayed too late and they’ve noticed me. Bjorn whatever happens, do not reveal that I’m a Valkyrie, if you do, I don’t know what will happen and I’m scared they’ll hurt you or you and Dyre or even your sister and her family to get whatever they imagine I have. Here, wear this. If anything bad happens, you press this to your chest and dragon armor will emerge from this and cover and protect you. Dyre is already wearing one too. Press it and a cocoon will wrap around him and it will save him from everything they could ever throw at him. Don’t worry about me, I’m not going into the lion’s den without teeth of my own.” You whispered as you put a dragon scale necklace around his neck and pointed out the one that Dyre had on his own necklace as you geared up in your own armor and hit a button so that it and your dragon toothed weapons turned invisible over your clothes.

“For now, stick to the story we’ve told everyone else and just...follow my lead and if we live through dinner. We’re leaving as soon as humanly possible.” You hissed.

“Agreed.” Bjorn nodded as he picked up Dyre and took your hand and squeezed it tightly before he left his house, you putting a special code so that the house would appear normal for anyone who looked inside just in case Ivar's men decided to snoop.

You both did your best to appear as much as ease as possible but Ivar could sense the tension radiating off of both of you and now when he looked at you, he wondered that if he made a child with you, if it would still turn out like him. Or perhaps you would give him a son just like Dyre which is what he really wanted.

“So, where are you from Astrid? Your clothes are very unusual.” Ivar asked as you sat down to dinner as Freydis looked you over curiously.

“From down south, it’s on the map Bjorn has shown you.” You answered with as much composure you could muster.

“Come here, show me.” Ivar demanded and gestured for you to come to him before he seemed to pull his copy of the map out and put it on the table next to him which you did which your contacts showed you where you should put the mark that matched up with Bjorn’s raiding tour.

“What is this cloth that you wear?” Ivar asked as he reached out and felt the fabric of your dress after he pet his hand down your side.

“Cashmere, it’s grown off of special goats the way wool grows off of sheep, if you like it my Lord, I can make you garment out of some, I have extra fabric I brought from home.” You offered with a charming smile.

“I wouldn’t want to trouble you.” Ivar grinned smugly.

“No trouble at all, it would be an honor to make a garment for my king and god.” You smiled, you had to play into his ego. “Just tell me what colors would please you best my lord.” You proposed.

“He likes black.” Freydis said from the other end of the table, hating the way her husband was looking at you and touching you as jealous bile rose in her own throat, he was looking to replace her.

“And you my Lady? I have enough I can make something for you as well. How could I not do for the queen of Kettegat what I would do for it’s king?” You returned.

“If you would permit me to leave your side so that your wife can feel the fabric of my dress?” You proposed to Ivar who nodded but that didn’t stop him from moving his hand to your ass and giving it a squeeze through the fabric which both terrified you and filled you with rage but you couldn’t take his hand off for it. Bjorn was also feeling the same emotions you were as you heard each other both tell each other and yourselves ‘don’t react, don’t react, just ignore it.’ But Bjorn had to bite his lips from smiling when he saw your imagination give you a short fantasy of killing Ivar where he sat as you walked over to Freydis.

‘You saw that right?’ You mouthed to her which she smiled apologetically at you. ‘What do I do?’ You mouthed next before she put you in front of her to feel the fabric of your dress and look at the details, the nature of your cloaking device meant she could put her hands through what was cloaked to feel the fabrics of what was wrapped around your waist.

‘Nothing, don’t worry’ she mouthed before she smiled reassuringly at you which made you smile in relief before you both discussed the dress and what details she would want.

“Well since you’ll be busy doing these favors for us Astrid and since you Bjorn will be going on an expedition to start a new outpost that will surely grow into a colony in the south east and that can be so treacherous and dangerous for such a beautiful woman as Astrid is and with as precious Dyre is, I absolutely insist that you leave Astrid and Dyre here with us while you do so and you can come back for them when the trading outpost is set up and stable along with the outposts first tribute to me. I can assure you no harm will come to either of them until you return. Surely you can not expect Astrid to survive in the wilderness with a newborn, it would spell death for both of them. And they are so precious after all.” Ivar suggested to Bjorn who clutched Dyre to his chest as possessiveness swirled in his chest as he considered if he could face off against Ivar in one on one combat while also trying to find a way to use words to keep that from happening to begin with. You just had to survive the next three days. Three days and you’d all be out of here.

“My Lord, surely you must understand that I know my wife well, I know she is up to the task.” Bjorn very carefully tried to argue.

“She may be but you can not trust the men in your party to keep their hands off of her and you need them to do what they do in order to set up a functioning outpost. She does not look like she is quite strong enough to defend herself - especially if she is outnumbered so because I am King and god here, I can guarantee you that once I give the word, no one would ever dare harm a hair on her head or your son if she is in my house. I am the only one who can offer this protection and because we are such good friends and you have been so faithful to me all this time. I must offer this and you must accept.” Ivar insisted and you knew there would be no other way. You could protect yourself. You could even protect Dyre. But in order to protect Bjorn, he had to agree to this but your link with him you knew he was thinking of a thousand and one excuses and was ready to fight his way out of this. You knew none of you would make it so you had to say something, do something.

“Of course my Lord. I count myself very lucky to have found favor in your eyes. I thank you a thousand times over for the honor of your protection and I pray my husband will take full advantage of this offer from you, surely because he will not have to worry about me as long as I am in your care, his burden is lightened and he will be able to carry out your will better without the restrictions of my company may have.” You offered as you quickly walked back over to Ivar and kneeled and bowed your head and squeezed your eyes as tight as you could as you fought tears.

“Thank you my Lord.” You offered as the tears came to your eyes anyway as he offered you his hand and you took it and kissed his knuckles firmly.

“Excellent, you should go home and pack, in order to protect you best, you must move here with me as soon as possible.”

“Yes, I will be here tomorrow my Lord.” You answered. “Permit me to go home and pack then.” You pleaded before he gestured for you to leave.

“I will see you tomorrow as well my queen.” You bid her as you shared a meaningful look, both of you knowing exactly what was happening next.

Once you were gone Freydis glared at Ivar before she got up and went to bed before she said something that was liable to get her face slapped or her throat choked.

Once back at home you took Dyre back from Bjorn who was furious with you.

“If you need to hit something, hit that.” you pointed to the pillows on the bed as you sat in a chair and closed the ‘curtain’ between your tent and his house so that it closed your tent off and sound proofed the space before Bjorn punched the shit out of the pillows on your now shared bed before he picked one up and screamed into it as you started crying while you nursed Dyre.

“Why did you agree?!” Bjorn demanded with hot tears in his eyes as he threw the pillow down onto the bed and turned to face you.

“Because it was the only way we all live through this. I can’t chance Ivar killing you over me. If he abandoned him in a forest, he’s not above killing whoever he sees as a threat or in the way of what he wants and he wants me, he wants me to bear him a son, a perfect one. I’ll try to hold off his advances as long as I can until you are safe and so far away that he can’t reach you. You know your path Bjorn, walk in it. Once you do and you’re safe, I’ll find a way to fake my death or do whatever I have to do to get the hell out of here and I will come to you. But you have to take your sister and her family with you. Because otherwise Ivar might kill them out of spite or revenge or sacrifice them.” You implored.

“But leaving you behind is like taking my heart out of my chest and expecting me to live without it. I can’t leave you I love you!” Bjorn said as he slammed his fists down on the arm rests of the chair you were sitting in before he grabbed them so hard his knuckles turned white.

“You love me? You don’t even know me Bjorn!” You sobbed as you hung your head.

“Bjorn, I’ve told you half truths since the moment I met you. I needed to earn your trust as fast as possible. You named me Astrid. That’s not even my real name!” You argued. “This isn’t even my real face or my real hair and I don’t even speak the language you do.” You revealed as you pulled the hairband off your head and revealed your sapphire blue hair before you revealed the universal translator before you peeled off your face mask and revealed yourself to him as he stood up and stared at you in a mix of surprise and horror.

“My name is Zara Fallulah, I’m not even a Valkyrie. I’m a High Lady of Sephira, who is a being who is out to fix all of history’s mistakes and build the perfect future by fixing the past. I’m one of thousands and I’m not from Asgard, I’m from here, I’m just from the here in the future, three thousand years in the future. I haven’t even been born yet. I’m sorry but you fell in love with a lie. But that didn’t stop me from falling in love with you. And I love you too much to let anything happen to you or your family who has no business getting caught up in this and so in order to fulfill my assignment which was to deliver you to your destiny and my own desire to simply have you keep living and be as safe as I can make you- I will stay here until you do. Don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself and I can take care of Dyre. But even I have limitations. In order to deliver you from an early death at Ivar’s hands, you have to leave me here. Getting Dyre home won’t be an issue but I can’t be with you as long as Ivar lives because if he’s not after you- he’s after your family and that’s too high of a price for my own freedom. So go, take your sister and her family. Get everyone out of here as quickly as you can and get as far away from here that you can and out of Ivar’s reach. I know you’re furious with me. I’m furious with myself because I’ve never had soft spots before but you are my soft spot and Ivar is squeezing it.” You cried. “So because this is my last night here as you wife. Let’s make the most of it.” You suggested just as Dyre fell asleep before Bjorn took him and put him in his bassinette as you stood up then he all out attacked your mouth with his and kissed you so fiercely it hurt but it hurt so good.

He almost ripped your clothes apart ripping them off of you and practically threw you onto the bed before he pinned your wrists above your head with one hand and groped you roughly with the other as he entered you roughly, making your body writhe under him while your eyes pleaded with him as you could feel your milk leaking from your nipples and dripped down your ribcage which Bjorn licked up before he bit your breast in retaliation before he fisted his hand in your hair.

“No more lies, when I ask you something, you’ll tell me the whole truth.” He growled as you nodded in agreement.

“Why is your hair blue?” Bjorn demanded as he laid over you and caged you in with his body as his hips started up a rough and hard rhythm.

“It’s a sign of respect towards Sephira, her hair is naturally blue, most of the Ladies in the order color their hair blue in solidarity, my hair is naturally brown in color.” You answered.

“Why did you hide yourself from me?” He demanded next as you grabbed your face and squeezed your jaw firmly.

“The mask helps change our appearance so that we’re more visually pleasing to our marks. You’re Norse, you believe fair skin and blonde hair are the ultimate standards of beauty. You expect Odin and his family to be the same way and you expect a Valkyrie to also be that way. It’s how we get you to like us and trust us as quickly as you do, by telling you were part of the same supernatural belief system you believe in, Valkyrie, Angel, same thing- humans are always drawn to the epitome of what they consider beautiful.” You answered with a pained expression.

“Are you really a dragoner?” He asked.

“Yes, that part is true, we mix the truth in with the lies so you’ll believe the whole as truth. My parents names are Ziri and Izik, my sister’s name is Sasha, my brothers' names are Ryker and Ryzen, they’re twins. We are nobility and have an estate outside the capitol where we house over 300 dragons. We supply Sephira and her order with all the dragon silk and dragon wool they wants along with supplying her and the order with all their dragons, she recruited me to be a Lady of hers when I was 15. I have been one of her best students so far and I know over 100 fighting disciplines. Which means I can do this.” You answered as you used close quarters combat to get out of his hold and flip him onto his back but still remained joined. “I am never a victim. Part of my training is to let dangerous people feel they have the upper hand and use it to emotionally manipulate them into doing what I want.” You revealed as you continued to ride him.

“Is that what you’ve done to me? Just emotionally manipulated me? You don’t really love me either do you?” Bjorn sneered but still pushed his pelvis up into yours.

“I did in the beginning. But the moment we came back to regroup with the others I’ve done it less and less and yes I do really love you. I have been doing this for decades, I have saved millions of lives but I have also killed thousands of people. And yet you, I can’t...I can’t explain why I love you, nor can I deny it. Because you’re the only one who has been allowed to play inside my head and see my memories of my childhood, of my family. No other has ever had the privilege and when you leave me here, the link will still be just as strong as it is now and it’s how I’m going to constantly tell you that I love and that I’m ok and that our son is ok. I’m already breaking my code for you which is something I have never done before. You’re not supposed to have dragon armor, it’s forbidden for me to share it with anyone but my family and the order. But here you have it. You’re not supposed to know about Neveah, let alone be able to see it, yet you have through my own mind's eye. I’m not even supposed to have sex with you but we can’t stop that either and I shouldn’t be able to concieve because of all the powers Sephira has given me is supposed to take away my own fertility but yet, I’m carrying your child and that’s not supposed to happen, ever.” You informed him as you let him sit up as he stared at you in awed wonder, his anger melting in an instant and then carefully put his hand to your belly.

“You’re pregnant...with my…?” He asked as his heart seemed to come back together again.

“Yes and even if Sephira unravels me, she can’t unravel you or our son, or this. So I’m yours, if you still want me.” You offered.

“Hell yeah,” He agreed as he wrapped you in his embrace and kissed you earnestly before he flipped yogo, go to your path and walk in it so I can hurry up and finish this mission and even if Ivar u back over so you were under him once more.

“So decides to light this world on fire- I’ll get your sister and her family somewhere safe and take you to Neveah with me if I have to and Sephira will have to just deal with me retiring early. I can’t really work pregnant anyway.” You revealed. “If you want to go to Neveah that is.” you added.

“We’ll see what happens.” Bjorn decided.

“Ok.” You agreed before he kissed you much sweeter as he made love to you as sweetly as he could, savoring your taste and rememorizing you all over again. You both clung to each other for dear life and made love so many times you lost count before you both collapsed.

When you woke up, you methodically went through everything you had and gave him half of it including half of your dragon toothed knives and swords, which was another cardinal rule you were breaking. But you wanted him to be as taken care of as possible even if you couldn't do so personally. You made love one last time before Ivar's men came for you and you put your disguise back on. You took your tent down and his house returned to its original form. You left with Ivar's men to Ivar's house and Bjorn could do nothing but hang his head in defeat and cry as he looked around and realized, this house stopped being home a long time ago. All he could see was its flaws and it felt cold and dark and just…wrong. It was all wrong because you weren’t in it with him.

Moving into Ivar's house was easier than it should have been, he gave you a room right next to his room that he shared with Freydis, but you felt the hostility rolling off of Freydis. But it wasn’t directed at you. It was at Ivar. She couldn't fault you for giving into the pressure her husband put on you. She just wished her husband had loved his own son as much as he seemed to love yours. Now that you were here Ivar seemed infatuated with your son and had him in his arms whenever possible as he cooed to him which freed you up to actually sew the garments you promised as you kept looking up and over at them every so often and smiling softly at the scene.

In record time Bjorn got everyone and everything together doing so in two and you all met back up at the docks as the boats were being loaded. But Ivar frowned when he saw Bjorn's sister and her family going down the docks to be loaded.

"Bjorn, this was not what was agreed upon, your sister and her family are not on the list." Ivar began to argue before you went to Ivar's side.

"What would it take my Lord for you to let them go? What price might I pay for them to be free to go?" You asked in a hushed voice as you looked imploringly at him before he looked back at you with a wolfish grin.

"What are you offering?" He asked curiously.

"I will divorce my husband here and now and you can have me as a second wife or thrall or slave or whatever you would want, provided that no harm will ever come to Dyre, Bjorn or his family. I'm in my conceive period, if a son just as fair as Dyre is what you want by me, I can give you that. By the time I give birth Bjorn will be too far away to do anything and by the time he hears that I bore you a child, he will never return to claim me because there will be nothing to claim because I will be joined to you until death itself would pull me apart from you but he will still deliver you tribute. I will trade you my own life and freedom and all the children you would want from me if you'll let Bjorn's sister and her family go and swear that you or any of those who are with you will ever harm them." You swore as Ivar grinned triumphantly.

"Go, tell him now." Ivar bid you before you nodded and walked down the plank, mentally warned Bjorn who sighed in defeat as he looked at you, his eyes still pleading with you not to do this.

But you had no choice. This was the only way.

“Bjorn...I...I am divorcing you.” You managed to say, ignoring his sister who looked at you vehemently while everyone’s jaws dropped to the floor.

“I’m leaving you for Ivar. And only death will separate me from him.” You announced.

“May you have fair winds and find success on your travels.” You bid him before you let him say goodbye to his son before you said your goodbyes, mentally swearing that you were going to fake your death as soon as possible and that hopefully when he finally came to where he was supposed to be that you would meet him there which he agreed on and accepted it before you walked back to Ivar.

“Satisfied?” You asked once you returned to his side.

“For now,” Ivar agreed before you turned around from the docks and accompanied Ivar back to his home.

#Vikings #vikings ivar #ivar the boneless imagines #ivar the boneless #Vikings OC #History Vikings #Keep Your Eyes On Me #Keep your eyes on me part 4 #vikings crossover

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blueyesandleatherjacket · 4 years

Text

The Fallen, 4/17

Volume: 1.

Number of parts: 4/17.

Pairings: Nine x Rose.

A/N: Written for Whumptober. "Wake up" (ALT1), Stitches (D11), "Don't move" (D12), Adrenaline (D13), Tear-stained (D14). Tagging @thebookster on her demand.

“We've all fallen, but at the same time we're not broken. There is the hint that we are going to get up again.” - Amy Lee.

CHAPTER 4:

Maya Carson was one of Nash’s oldest friends. They were both from Shitferz and had both been part of that experimental program of exchange between their planet and Gallifrey. They hadn’t been told anything, they were just put on the list and sent away. The Quiston Calcium Assassins weren’t known for creating friendships or other bonds between people. Instead, they were setting their recruits against each other to make them merciless, heartless and bloodthirsty. The perfect assassins. Nash and Maya had both played the game; they had both compelled to their rules. They had become two of the best assassins of this deadly organization, had executed all their contracts. Their shapeshifter genes were giving them a longevity of life and a healing ability that was very useful when you were fighting targets stronger than you. When the Daleks and the Time Lords began fighting in a war that was to destroy everything around, the Quiston Assassins were sent on the battlefield. On the front lines. Despite their training, many of them had died that day. Maya was pregnant. It wasn’t visible yet, but Nash knew it. They had kept the secret. Only Maya’s husband, Oliver, another member of the Quiston Assassins, did know about the news, and they were all fighting for the sake of this future child. It wouldn’t have the same life as them on Gallifrey. No, it would come to this world in a better world than this one. That was their belief. The intervention of the Doctor was what saved them. He gave them the time to run away, to steal a TARDIS of their own and find another planet to settle down. Earth hadn’t been their first choice but it had been their best. This had happened over thirty years ago in their current timeline but the memories of it were still fresh. Forgetting about their killing instincts and making themselves accepted had been the hardest parts and they were still working on this, even now. Sadly, Oliver wasn’t around anymore – a divergence of opinions and an inability to control himself had caused his downfall – but Maya had found help in Texas. A married couple of shapeshifter and witch took her under their wing and took care of her for a moment. Maya had given birth to her daughter in this atmosphere and safety before coming to England, to London where she met again with Nash. She was forced to abandon her daughter in an orphanage for her safety when other assassins that had fled from Gallifrey came after them. The woman was growing somewhere in this world and Maya had no way to know where she was. But she would find her one day. “Maya? Maya, dear, do you hear me?” There was a clear wound on her temple. She had been knocked out with a heavy object. If she had been human, it could have killed her. They would have to pretend she was human and stitch that wound so no one – especially the person who caused this – would suspect a thing. With someone like Jeremy around, better lie low. “Wake up, please. You can’t let me down now. We haven’t found her yet.” The mention of her daughter brought some life into Maya whose eyes slowly fluttered open. She groaned. She was having a headache now. She brought her fingers to her head and touched the bleeding wound. She made a grimace of pain. “What the…” Her instincts quickly kicked back in and she immediately jumped on her feet. All her body was on alert but she was dizzy from the pain throbbing in her head. She clutched the frame of a bunk bed to keep steady. She would fight anyone coming near her. This dizziness was nothing compared to everything she had gone through. “Sh, sh, sh,” said Nash. “It’s only me. Do you remember what happened?” Maya focused. She relaxed only when she was able to distinctly identify Nash beside her. She sat on a bed with a heavy sigh. No, she hadn’t seen nothing at all. It was her break time so she had come here for a bit of sleep and before she could see or hear anything, she was out. Her reflexes weren’t as sharp as before. It wasn’t good. She let Nash clean and stitch her wound. She also accepted the band aid. It would hide the fact the cut and bruise would be gone in a few hours or less. No need to draw more attention on her. She already didn’t know why she had been attacked. It was frustrating for a former assassin to have been knocked out so easily. “I need to tell you something, but I can’t do it in here.” She was almost certain that Jeremy was spying on his employees to be sure they were obeying his orders and not nosing around like Nash was sometimes tempted to do. He was hiding secrets, dark secrets, and the therapist didn’t like that at all. She needed to talk about this, and about her patient, to her friend. It would have to wait until their shifts were over. She couldn’t even take the risk to speak telepathically. She was acting as humanly as possible. “The bathrooms aren’t on watch.” Maya’s voice had been so low that only a person with enhanced senses could have heard her. Still, Nash looked around and gave her friend a nod. They would find a bathroom and have their talk there if it was the most secure place of the building. Not the most appalling or pleasant for people with such developed sense of smell but it would do. They found one near the isolation ward and Nash made sure to check every corner and every hub. Safety first. She was very distrustful toward the owner of the place and the changes he had done around here. No micro and no camera in the bathrooms. At least, he had some respect left. A breach in his so perfect security. “I have a new patient,” whispered Nash. Just like Maya minutes before, she was speaking very low so only her could hear what she was saying. If anyone was passing by, they wouldn’t even suspect that someone was on this bathroom unless they came in. The two women would pretend to be washing their hands after using the loo. As simple as that. “I’ve heard of something about a new guy around. A psycho.” “No, not at all. It’s him.” Maya’s eyes grew big. It’s him. She couldn’t believe those words and yet, her friend wouldn’t lie to her. So it had to be true. The Doctor, the man who saved their lives thirty years ago, was here. As a patient. What could that mean? Was he undercover or something? “What’s he doing here?” “I don’t really know.” “Do you think he…” Nash shook her head. The Doctor wasn’t undercover. Something had gone wrong and he had gone nuts. He was t there for Jeremy either. He had been surprised to see him two days ago. A bad surprise. The rage and fear and disgust had made him lose it completely. Well, the person he stole this face from had lost it. Quite impressive. The body had been taken care of by Jeremy’s staff. Mash preferred not knowing what they had done of the poor woman’s cadaver but she hoped it was respected. No one should meet such an end. Not even someone working for Jeremy. “He’s pretty vague and confused. Looks like his latest adventure has gone wrong and it deeply affected him. J has already laid his hands on him. It wasn’t pretty.” “So what do we do?” “We have to help him out of here. For the rest, we’ll see that in time.” Maya nodded. The mission was simple: help the Doctor to escape this place before Jeremy Backfire had full control on his case. They had been working here for years and had been trained to run from the worst situations. But it was always easier said than done. It would take some time and organisation.

“Don’t move!” The adrenaline was pulsing in every vein of the nurse’s body. He was one of the three employees in charge of lunch today and it was pretty calm until this one guy quietly eating alone in his corner was being bothered by another patient. A blonde woman who had tried to have him speaking only to be rewarded with a ‘stop trying to be her!’ and an empty plate straight in her face. The nurse hadn’t been told about this new patient yet so he didn’t know how to handle the situation but one thing was sure: they had to disarm it before it went south for real. The other patients were feeling the adrenaline and fear and tension in the air and that was exciting them. They were ready for a fight. A deadly fight since the new guy had a shard of broken plate in his fist. He was holding it so tight that it had cut his hand. Blood was dripping on the floor but he didn’t seem to notice. Or to care. “Put that down slowly, sir. No one will hurt you. We’re just here to help you.” The nurse had a raised hand toward him, a universal gesture for ‘calm down’, but the Doctor didn’t see him. He was oblivious of everything around him. His eyes were staring at the ground before him but his sight was a blur. He was seeing the floor without seeing it, being physically in this hospital and mentally elsewhere. The Wolf was active. It was there at the moment but the Doctor’s eyes weren’t glowing gold like it usually did. This blonde woman wandering around and trying to get him to speak had reminded him so much of Rose – though the woman had nothing in common with his companion – that it had triggered his fury. He had punished the woman and was punishing himself for not being able to get to Rose in time. She could be dead for all he knew and that was all his fault. And that new Doctor, why hadn’t he noticed that something was wrong? The Wolf had intervened before it could get worse. It had used a card the Doctor ignored everything about. As Rose was the host of the other half of the Wolf, they were telepathically connected and nothing could break this bond between them. So the Wolf had connected him to Rose’s mind. It was enabling him to have a look at her mind, at her surroundings through her eyes. Pain struck him at the pink walls. She wasn’t in the TARDIS. It could have been a day off, a day visiting Jackie but he knew deep down that it wasn’t. Rose was back at home, back at her old life with Jackie. Her sight was blurred. She was crying. When she looked down, he could see what she had in her lap. A notebook. It was closed and the cover was tear-stained. She had been crying for a while. She closed her eyes and the connection was broken. He was back in his own mind, back in this hospital. His fury wasn’t any better, but another emotion was dominating now: pain. The pain to know that Rose was at Jackie’s again, the pain to know that she was unhappy, the pain to know that the other Doctor had done nothing to get rid of the Wolf in her mind. He had cravenly left her behind and that was unforgiveable. He was clenching his fists so hard that the piece of plate he was still holding was deeply sunk in his skin now. This pain didn’t matter. He was all too focused on another pain, on her pain. It was unbelievable, unbearable and it was growing in him like a cancer. He suddenly leant his head backward and howled his frustration to the dirty white ceiling…

To be continued...

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#doctor who #ninth doctor #rose tyler #bad wolf #doctor x rose #dw fic #the fallen

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